War Stories
by GrittyRe-boot
Summary: Historical AU: When a reluctant visit to her grandpa Finn turns into an afternoon of storytelling, glee clubber Tabby Hudson comes up with a great idea to connect two very different generations of performers. WW2, glee style. Finchel, Quick, Brittana.
1. Prologue

**This is different from anything I've ever done and I'm really excited about it. Now I'm of course doing research, and taking a few small artistic liberties but if there are any glaring inaccuracies please let me know.**

Tabby Hudson groaned deeply as she stepped out of her mom's minivan. How had she gotten herself into this? She loved her Grampy, she really did, but he was the biggest weirdo, especially since Gramsy died a few years back, a reality that he never quite accepted. She knew it was partially the alzheimer's catching up to him, but he wasn't that far gone yet, something told her that her grandpa was a space cadet long before the senility kicked in. Gramsy, even with all of her crazy was the one who kept him grounded, the one who kept him together. They had always had a theory that while she was the more outwardly emotional and eccentric of the two, he was the one who was always on the verge of snapping.

The day of her funeral he showed up wearing a track suit and house shoes and carrying a giant teddy bear after he had stolen his son's car and disappeared for hours the night before. He explained to them that he had spent all of his money at Cedar Point winning it for her at the basketball hoop, that he couldn't show up at Gramsy's funeral without a giant teddy bear. It only got worse from there. Without his wife there to take care of him he got worse and worse, making scenes in public, picking fights, that time he showed up to Tabby's 14th birthday party in a Christmas sweater and swim shorts because he couldn't figure out his laundry. He never really forgave his children for sending him to a home, and his children never really forgave themselves, but the reality of the situation was that Finn couldn't make it without her, they were together for 65 years, you couldn't be with someone for 65 years without losing a piece of yourself when they left. It didn't matter that she had lived a long, full life, that she had traveled the world and raised babies and sang her heart out for years on the stage in front of adoring crowds. None of that brought him any solace in facing her death. He fell apart, plain and simple, and every time Tabby's mom, Finn's daughter, forced her to visit him at Shady Springs the experience was invariably maddening.

"Mr Hudson you have a visitor," The young nurse said.

"Tell them to fuck off," Finn said, not turning to face her.

"Hey Grampy," Tabby said ignoring his hostile behavior as she leaned into the door, trying to remain as positive as she could.

Finn turned to face her, "Who are you?" he said, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

"It's me, it's Tabitha," she sighed. "You know who I am, don't pretend like you don't." She gave the tall, world-weary old man a hesitant hug that he didn't immediately return, she looked over his shoulder at the wedding picture sitting on his desk. Tabby was always surprised to see how handsome he was in his youth, he looked good for 91 she supposed, but still, she wondered what 26 year old Finn Hudson, with his thick brown hair and fine complexion and smoldering eyes would think of 91 year old Finn Hudson, with his white hair and hunched over posture, saggy skin and milky eyes framed by boxy old man glasses.

"Did you bring me any cookies?" He said scratching his silver moustache.

"You're not allowed to eat that stuff, remember?" She said. "Mom baked you some sugar free banana bread," She continued, handing him the dish. He reluctantly took it, the grimace on his face suggesting that he had just accepted a pile of barber hair baked into a loaf.

"I told you not to show your face here unless you have cookies," he said in a manner too serious to be taken as an attempt at humor.

"You've never said that, not once," Tabby argued dismissively.

"Well I'm saying it now, and don't you forget it," he said.

"So, how's the home treating you?" Tabby said, a bored expression on her face as she circled the room, absentmindedly touching the framed pictures on his desk and walls.

"The nurse stole my hearing aid," Finn said.

"You don't need a hearing aid Grampy," she sighed.

"Well I might, and then what?"

Tabby exasperatedly buried her face in her hand for a second as she sank into the nearest chair. "I'll talk to her," she said, humoring him.

"So, how old are you now anyways?" Finn said taking a seat next to Tabby.

"I'm 16," She said.

"You're tall, it ain't natural for a girl to be that tall."

"Sorry," Tabby said. "I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Your grandma was that smallest Dame I'd ever seen up close," he said fondly. "Did I ever tell you about when we met?"

"Yeah, she was a nightclub singer at that club in New York, you met the month before you shipped out to England."

"No, that's all wrong," Finn said. "Listen, this is a great story."

Tabby tried not to groan. "Okay," she said, checking her watch inconspicuously. It would be 45 minutes before her mom picked her up. "I'm all ears."

"Okay," Finn started. "It was the month before I shipped out to England. Me and Noah Puckerman were enjoying our last days as free men in New York City when one day we happened upon this nightclub…"

This was going to be a very long story, Tabby thought to herself.

**If it makes any sense, Finn is 91 but the year is still 2011 so this is definitely an AU story, not a futurefic. And I'm looking very forward to featuring the other glee-clubbers as senior citizens. Finn is the framing device in the story, but it isn't entirely about him.**


	2. Siren Song

**I won't be updating as quickly with this story because the chapters are going to be quite a bit longer than usual, and each one will be focused on a different character. For example this chapter is centered around Finn, the next will be about Puck and so on…**

"Noah Puckerman and I had been the best of friends since our grammar school days. So of course when it came time to fight for our country we were in it together, no matter what. Puck was a charmer from day one, there wasn't a dame on this planet that he couldn't sweep off her feet if only for a moment, and Rachel Berry was no different, or so he thought. Rachel was the prettiest little lady I'd laid my eyes on since I left Ohio, she had eyes you could get lost in, a smile that lit up the town and a figure—

"I've seen the pictures Grampy," Tabby cut in.

"I'm trying to tell a story here, remember your manners," he snapped.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

Anyway, we were stationed at Trenton, but we decided to spend our last leave before deployment in The Big Apple, living it up like those were our last days on Earth, and with the war in our near future they very well could have been…

* * *

><p>Manhattan, 1941<p>

"Christ it's cold," Puck said, blowing into his hands as they marched down the city sidewalk in search of booze, broads and a reprieve from the bitter January cold.

"If you're going to make it two seconds in England you're gonna need to get used to it buddy," Finn said, clapping his friend on the back.

"I won't be thinking about the cold when I'm waist deep in dead Germans. I can't wait to kick some Nazi ass, you mess with my people you're messing with me."

"That's the spirit Puckerman," Finn said.

As they walked, the sound of Jazz began to penetrate the atmosphere, as soon as they heard it Finn and Puck grew instantly warm. If there was one thing the two men shared in common, it was the intense love of good music, and the Warbler Room was the place for it that night.

"Do you hear that?" Finn said, stopping Puck in his tracks. It was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, and as he listened he felt as if his heart had began to beat a little faster.

"Are you okay man?" Puck said, noticing the look of utter entrancement on Finn's face.

"We have to go in," Finn said.

"I thought we were going to Jack's" Puck said.

"Forget Jack's," Finn said, marching ahead of his friend, who simply shrugged and followed Finn's lead.

_Maybe I'll win and maybe I'll lose__  
><em>_Maybe I'm in for crying the blues__  
><em>_But nevertheless I'm in love with you__  
><em>

"Hot Damn," Puck said as they entered the club. Finn remained silent, he was utterly speechless. He couldn't tell what was more beautiful, her or her voice. Either way he couldn't keep the goofy grin off of his face, he couldn't make his heart slow down and he couldn't keep his hands from sweating. It must have been what love felt like, he had no way of knowing, he had never been in love. He had dated girls, many girls, beautiful girls with flowing hair and rosy lips and perfect breasts, girls who by traditional standards were even prettier than the striking brunette onstage. But none of them had made him feel the way he did in that moment, scared and excited and breathless all at once. Somehow, and he didn't know how, but somehow he was going to talk to her.

"Dibs," Puck said before Finn could open his mouth to speak. Of course Puck would call dibs. But it wasn't over, not by a long shot. Finn may not have been as smooth as his friend, but he was handsome, and tall, and a gentlemen, and dames liked that. _You can do this_ he thought to himself. As she sang she glanced at Finn, or at least he thought she was glancing at him, and she smiled a bit, the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. She was definitely looking at him, if only for a moment. There was no way he could do this.

_Somehow I know at a glance the terrible terrible chances I'm taking__  
><em>_Fine at the start but then left with a heart that's breaking__  
><em>_Maybe I'll live a life of regret__  
><em>_And maybe I'll give much more than I get__  
><em>_But nevertheless I'm in love with you_

Finn clapped enthusiastically as she finished, he wondered if he should whistle but he decided against it, thinking she might not find it appropriate.

"Thank you, you're all lovely," The beautiful young singer said to the crowd. "I'll be taking a short break but until then please enjoy the musical stylings of Mr. Blaine Anderson," She continued, gesturing toward a sharply dressed, Raven-haired young man sitting at the piano. As Rachel descended the stage, daintily holding up her dress to climb down the stairs Puck began to saunter toward her. He was going to talk to her first, Finn just knew it, yet there was nothing he could do, the very idea of approaching that girl terrified him. Girls didn't usually make him nervous that way. But he knew he had to get it together if he was going to have a fighting chance, so he straightened his tie and cleared his throat and traipsed up to the brunette as his friend did the same.

"Why hello miss," Puck said, getting her attention. She smiled sweetly at him and extended her gloved hand.

"Hello yourself sir. Did you enjoy the show?" She said.

Puck raised one eyebrow at her suavely. "Enjoyed is putting it mildly," he said before pressing a soft kiss to her hand. She blushed at the contact. She was blushing, Puck was making her blush, the bastard. "I'm Noah Puckerman."

"I'm Rachel Berry, and may I ask what your name is sir?" she said, directing her attention toward Finn next. She talked to him, she was talking to him, it was his moment.

"You sing real pretty," Finn said smiling stupidly at her, _Goddamnit Hudson get it together_.

"Thank you, you're very kind,"

"And um, Finnegan, my name, it's Finnegan."

"That's an odd sort of name," Rachel said. "I must say I like it."

She liked his goofy name, it was a start. "Well you know, you can call me Finn, or Hudson, that's my last name, I'm Finn Hudson. I'm a soldier, actually I'm a fighter pilot, we both are. We're shipping out to England next month, have you ever been to England? I hear they call fries chips there which is kind of strange but I guess England is kind of strange, especially the accents, do you ever wonder why they don't have accents in America?"

"_Aww grampy I never knew that you were dork." _

"_I was no such thing, now do you want to hear this story or not?"_

"_Well you're the one who insisted on telling it but please do go on,"_

"Well it is very nice to meet you both, what brings you to New York?" Rachel said graciously.

"We're young and free, we go where the mood takes us," Puck said. "And we would be damned if we went off to war without experiencing the great city of New York and it's fine… scenery." He looked her up and down at the last comment, making Finn roll his eyes subtly.

"Why Mr. Puckerman you are entirely too much," She said placing a flirtatious hand on her chest. He smirked at her, pleased with himself. "I must say boys, I thoroughly admire your bravery."

"And I thoroughly admire your figure," Puck said, he was really laying it on that night.

"Mr. Puckerman if your intent is to woo me I suggest you start by buying me a drink."

"I could buy you a drink," Finn cut in, "You know, or two. I mean, not that I want to get you drunk or anything, you know, unless you want to… I don't judge." _why are you still talking you idiot? _He thought silently to himself.

"Hold that thought, the boss is calling me," Rachel said, departing.

"What are you doing?" Puck seethed to his bumbling friend after she had left earshot.

"Wow, she's something isn't she?" Finn said dreamily.

"Yes, which is exactly why I'm trying to work my magic and you haven't taken your foot out of your mouth since you got here. Why don't you go talk to that girl?" Puck said, pointing to a cute blonde in the corner.

"I don't want to talk to—

"This is absolutely unacceptable!"

Finn and Puck turned their heads towards the tiny brunette who now appeared to be chewing out her boss, and rather loudly at that. "What do you mean I've been bumped?"

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Said the tall, surly man she was barking at.

"Don't sweetheart me, I demand to know why you're cutting me off after you promised me a full-set Mr. Karofsky!"

"I'm putting Jones on," He said nonchalantly.

"Mercedes?" Rachel said. "She's off tonight."

"Not anymore," Karofsky said. "I'm sorry doll, negroes attract more business, you know that."

"Talent attracts business Karofsky, I am the best singer in this entire city and I refuse to be disrespected by the likes of you."

"Have you heard every other singer in this city?"

"That's not the point, I've had it up to here with your lack of appreciation for my talent. This is the third time this week I've been bumped. "

"If you don't like it you can take your act to the Shadow club."

"I refuse to sing at a segregated club, you know that."

"Then I suggest you quit your bitchin,' you're making a scene. You're bumped, deal with it," Karofsky said, turning to leave.

"Argh! You'll pay for this Karofsky! I know people!" she spat, stomping her foot and making tight fists with her hands before marching off.

"What happened?" Finn said, catching up to her.

"That man is infuriating," She said, fuming. "Now are one of you boys going to buy me a drink or what?"

"She's all yours man, this broad's obviously a handful. I like 'em feisty and everything but yeesh," Puck whispered over to Finn before peeling off toward the blonde.

"Um, so do you like Sea Breezes?" Finn said nervously.

* * *

><p>"I swear if I can't get a full set sometime this month I don't know how I'm going to keep a roof over my head. That man has some nerve, he's just a big dumb bully who lives off of other people's talent. But one day I'm going to get out of this place and men like David Karofsky are going to be groveling at my feet." Rachel said, sipping her drink at the bar as Mercedes sang a soulful tune. Finn hadn't talked much in the twenty minutes that had passed, mostly because he was afraid of saying something stupid, but he liked sitting next to her, he liked listening to her talk, even if he only caught about every five words, and he liked looking at her. He liked the way her thick, dark hair curled around the fragrant gardenia holding it in place, he liked the shapes her plump, red lips made as she talked, he liked the way her eyes sparkled.<p>

"Well, she's good I'll give her that," Rachel admitted.

"Yeah," Finn shrugged, finally speaking. "But you're better."

She blushed, he made her blush. "You're very kind Mr. Hudson."

"I'm serious, when I heard you sing I just had to come in, it was like you drew me to you. You know, like those mermaids who make ships crash."

"You mean sirens?" Rachel said.

"No those are those things on top of police cars," Finn said stupidly. "But if you don't mind my saying, when I heard you sing it… touched something in me… right here." he said sincerely, putting his hand on his chest.

"Your heart is on the other side of your chest," she said, taking his hand and moving it to the left. His hand tingled at the contact and an unwitting smile reached his lips.

"It's beating real hard," He said sheepishly.

"Mr. Hudson would you care to dance?" She said.

"I don't know," he mumbled, "I mean, I'd probably step all over your feet."

"Mr. Hudson there's something I think you should know about me," Rachel said. "I don't take no for an answer." At that she got up and grabbed his large hand in her small one, leading him out to the dance floor. He hesitantly placed his hands on her waist as she circled her arms around his neck. As they began to dance he looked over her shoulder at Puck who was currently dancing with the blonde, he met his eye and Puck gave him a subtle thumbs up. Finn smiled and turned his attention back to his dance partner.

"I must say Mr. Hudson, I'm glad it was you," Rachel whispered softly into his ear.

"Me?" Finn said.

"You caught my attention straight away," Rachel said softly. "Couldn't you tell?"

"So did you," Finn said. "I'm mean you're a real—

"Ow!" Rachel exclaimed, cutting him off as he accidently crushed her tiny foot under his giant one.

"Oh Jesus, I am so sorry are you okay?"

"That's quite alright Mr. Hudson," she giggled.

"Everyone always said I had two left feet, It's lucky I can sing," He said.

"You sing?"

"Not like you," He said. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone sing like you before."

"I would love to hear you sometime," she said. "I'm sure you have a lovely—

"Can I kiss you?" Finn said, cutting her off, he wasn't sure what had come over him but being around her seemed to make him even stupider than usual.

"I beg your pardon," She said.

"I'm sorry," he said frantically. "It's just, I have this problem. Sometimes I just say whatever it is I'm thinking without meaning to, and right now I'm thinking that I really want to kiss you. That is if you want me to."

She smiled nervously and bit her bottom lip in contemplation. And at that she gently grabbed his collar and stood up on her tiptoes to capture his lips in hers.

"_Way to go Grampy!"_

"_Yeah, and here you are calling me a dork,"_

"_Yeah you were definitely a dork."_

"_And you're a smart aleck. It's that red hair."_

_"Why do you blame all of my character flaws on my hair? How is that relevant?"_

_"Anyway, where was I?"_

_"Your first kiss with Gramsy."_

_"Oh that's right..."_

It was the kiss of the century, the Superman of kisses, and he knew at that moment that he never wanted to kiss anyone else's lips again. It was a little frightening to be honest, he didn't even know her. It wasn't normal to feel that way about someone he didn't know, someone that he would probably never see again after that night, but he had to see her again.

"I want to see you again," Finn said breathlessly as she separated her lips from his.

"You're seeing me now." She said, giggling a bit.

"I meant after tonight," he clarified. "I want to see you again."

"You're going to be trouble aren't you?" she said narrowing her gorgeous eyes at him.

"I'm not trouble. I promise you that," Finn insisted. "Now Puckerman, he's trouble."

"I could tell," she said. "But you, you're different aren't you?"

"I try to be," he said shrugging.

"I like that."

"I like you."

"You can kiss me again if you'd like."

And he did.

* * *

><p>Nothing was going to happen that night, she wasn't that kind of girl, but it was okay, just being with her a little longer was enough. Puck and the blonde had peeled off with Finn's blessing and now he walked hand in hand with Rachel, barely feeling the intense chill in the air with her by his side, talking about everything and nothing. And he talked too, about his childhood in Lima, about Puck, about his father, about music, about flying, about life.<p>

"I want to do that," Rachel said pointing at a poster for _Lady in the Dark_ as they passed by the theatre.

"Design posters?" Finn joked.

"No," she said, nudging him playfully. "Sing on Broadway. It's been a dream of mine since I was little."

"You should do that," he said encouragingly. "That would be perfect for you."

"If only it were that simple," She said dourly. "Right now keeping my dad fed is priority one. I sing at the club by night, work the factory by day, there just aren't enough hours to commit to auditions."

"Well, that's nice of you to take care of your dad."

"It's not forever, just until he gets back on his feet, ever since…"

"Ever since what?" Finn said, goading her on.

"It's a bit of a long story."

"I like stories," he said, shrugging.

She gave him a look that suggested she didn't know quite whether to trust him or not, and as she turned up one corner of her mouth a little he could tell that she did. "I feel like I should start at the beginning. You see, my dad, he isn't my real dad."

"That's not so strange," Finn said. "Lots of kids get adopted."

"He's also not my only dad, or at least he wasn't."

Finn stopped short, unsure of what she meant by that.

"You see, my mom, my real mom, she got very sick when I was young, too young for me to remember much about her really," Rachel continued. "And it came to a point where she knew she wasn't long for this world and she wanted to make sure that I was taken care of, that I wouldn't end up growing up in orphanages the way she did, but she had no family and no real friends aside from Hiram Berry."

"Your dad?"

"Mm hmm. Hiram and my mother were very close, they grew up in the same orphanage and even after he left at 18 he was always there when she needed him no matter what. So when my mother died she knew that I would be taken care of, that Hiram and Leroy would treat me as their own."

"And Leroy is…"

"My other dad," Rachel said carefully. "He was Hiram's… companion."

It took a minute for Finn to realize what she was talking about. "Oh," he said simply.

"Does that offend you Mr. Hudson?"

Finn scratched the back of his head in contemplation. "Well, I've heard stories about that type of thing, but, you know, I never really thought anything of it. I suppose it's no business of mine either way."

"Well you're a rare person indeed Mr. Hudson," She said, smiling warmly at him.

"You said he _was_ his companion, what happened to him?" Finn asked.

"Late last year he was killed when he was walking home from work. It was always something we feared might happen, he was a negro you see, and the companion of another man, as hard as we tried to keep our private life private it didn't always take." She began to get choked up at that point and Finn's simple reaction was to gently squeeze her hand. "It happened rather suddenly actually, and it's been very hard on him, on both of us. Sometimes he just sits by himself for hours not saying a word or doing a thing."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Finn said, brushing his thumb back and forth over her hand. "When my father died in the Great War my mom told me she cried herself to sleep every night for months. I couldn't even imagine that kind of pain. I think when you love someone enough, losing them, it's like losing a part of yourself I reckon."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. In any case, I'm all he has now, and I made a promise to myself that I would never leave him, that I would take care of him the way he and Leroy took care of me all those years, until he can face the world again," she said sadly. "I've never really talked about this before. There's something about you Mr. Hudson, somehow I feel like I can trust you."

"You _can_ trust me," he said, looking deeply into her eyes, he brushed a stray bit of hair out of her face and kissed her lips again, they were cold and damp from the snow, but still so soft and sweet. He looked into her eyes, as if he were searching them, and she recoiled a little, somehow knowing everything he was feeling at that moment.

"But, you're leaving Finn," she said simply.

"I know, but deployment is a month away, you have any plans until then?" He said before bringing her in closer and kissing her as if her lips were his reason for living.

"I was right," she said breathlessly. "You are trouble."

* * *

><p>That month passed by like lightning and he spent almost every waking moment with her. They went everywhere, dancing, to the theatre, to Central Park, to Coney Island. And sometimes they would just stay in, she would cook for him and her dad, and Finn would sing for them both and Rachel applauded so enthusiastically he felt like Sinatra, and they would spend the night together in her bed, holding each other and kissing and everything but sleeping, and they went out with Puck too. Puck had a different girl almost every night it seemed, but for Finn it was only Rachel. They had only known each other a short while but Finn felt as if he had known her his whole life, like being with her, talking to her, kissing her, was the easiest thing in the world. There was only one problem, he was leaving. He knew that it was coming, but somehow when he found himself getting ready to meet her his last night in New York he felt as if he couldn't breathe, like the very thought of spending so much time without her after spending so little time with her took the wind right out of him.<p>

"So you're going to see Rachel I'm guessing," Puck said as Finn adjusted his tie in the mirror.

"I don't know if I can do this," Finn said, his voice breaking.

"Sure you can man," Puck said. "You're leaving to fight for your country, you're a damn hero, which means tonight you're just about the luckiest bastard who ever lived. Now I don't know why you'd want to spend your whole leave wrapped around only one dame but she's mighty cute, I would aim to take advantage."

"I'm in love with her Puck."

Puck didn't speak right away, he just gave him a confused look, as if Finn had just told him he collected human hearts in jars.

"Wow, you are one stupid sonofabitch," Puck said in a way that somehow wasn't completely insulting.

"I never should have let this happen," Finn said. "I was fine a month ago, I was ready for this, and now. It's like I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean you don't know? You're a soldier Hudson, that's who you are and you're telling me you're going to let some woman make you rethink that?"

"I don't know what I'm saying, this dame's got me all twisted about. It's like thinking about leaving makes my chest hurt."

"You've only known this girl for a month Finn."

"I can't leave unless I know that she's going to be waiting for me, I can't face the next few years without knowing that she's mine."

"What are you getting at?" Puck said. "Please don't say what I think you're going to say."

"Don't wait up," Finn said, grabbing his jacket and leaving without another word.

* * *

><p>She was completely quiet, in the month that he'd known her he was pretty sure she hadn't stopped talking the whole time, but as he walked her home from their date she simply stared forward, not saying a word.<p>

"Are you okay Rachel?"

She only nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"I shouldn't have done this," she blurted, her eyes starting to glisten with tears. "I should have just used my head and left it at just a dance."

"You don't mean that," Finn said.

"Of course I don't, that's what's so crazy," she said, crying bitterly. "A smart person would have meant it. A smart person never would have allowed themselves to feel this way about someone they're never going to see again."

"Don't say that," he said, cupping her face and staring intensely into her eyes. "I'll be back Rach, nothing is going to keep me from coming back to you."

She smiled weakly. "I know you think it's going to be easy to keep that promise—

"I know it will. From the very first moment I saw you, that was it for me. I'm ruined for other dames."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I love you."

"You do?" She said through quiet sobs. "But—

"Please don't tell me how long it's been, it doesn't matter to me, and it doesn't matter to you either, I can tell."

She shook her head and smiled. "No, it doesn't matter."

"Do you love me Rachel? In spite of everything can you look at me right now and say with total honesty that you love me?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I love you very much Finn Hudson."

"Then I think you have to marry me."

She chuckled a little, "You're joking?"

"We can go to city hall tomorrow before I leave, Puck can be our witness, what do you say?"

"You're not joking."

"Not about this."

"You're crazy."

"I'm not, at least I wasn't before I met you," Finn said.

She looked as if she didn't know what to say, as if she was torn between her head and her heart and her heart was winning, just like it always did.

"Whatever will I wear?" she finally said. And at that he began to laugh and swept her up in his arms, spinning her around. She was going to marry him, she was going to be his wife. There was no way that he wasn't coming back from that war, because Finn Hudson was the luckiest man in the world.

* * *

><p>"Is there any way I can make you change your mind?" Puck said adjusting the collar on Finn's uniform.<p>

"Not a thing, I'm doing this Puck, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Which is why you only told me," Puck argued.

"If we told people then they would have tried to talk me out of it. We'll have a proper wedding when I come home, with all of our family there, and Rachel in a white dress and me in a fancy tux with one of those little hats that the Jews wear. It's going to be great."

"Would your mom even approve of you marrying a Jew?"

"We can go overseas and die for them but when it comes to love that's off-limits? What do you call that?"

"Hypocrisy," Puck said.

"If my mom loves me then she'll love Rachel too, that's all I know."

"Well, good luck man, you know I'm always in your corner, even when you insist on doing something as stupid as this.

"Thanks buddy," Finn said.

They took their places, and as Finn waited for his bride to meet him it felt as if his heart was trying to escape. He had never been more nervous in his life, but somehow it was the good sort of nervous. This was right, he knew it, if anything he was afraid that she might not be as sure as he was, that she would leave him waiting there, doomed to go to war without his wife, without his Rachel waiting for him, and the thought of it terrified him. He wouldn't peel his eyes away from the door, and as she finally walked through it his breath hitched in his throat. She was perfect, she wore a beautiful dress, deep blue with tiny red flowers all over it, and her flowing hair was pulled back with a thick red ribbon and her lips were painted a rosy crimson to match the natural blush of her cheeks at the sight of the man who in just a few short minutes would be her husband and she held a bouquet of freshly picked flowers in her perfect hands. She grabbed his hand and smiled up at him as she took her place by his side. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to kiss her so badly that he could barely contain it, but he knew that he would have to wait until the end.

His heart was pounding so loudly he could barely make out what the judge was saying, but he came in on the important moments, like when he asked for the name of their witness and when he prompted them to exchange rings, the simple silver bands he had picked out that very morning from an antique shop nearby, and he definitely heard Rachel say I do, and the judge say you may now kiss the bride, and boy did he ever.

"How much time do we have," Rachel said as they walked hand in hand down the hallway, newly married and beaming while at the same time terribly sad.

"I have to be at the train station in an hour," and at that Rachel grabbed him by the tie before he had a chance to react and dragged him into the nearest elevator.

"What are you doing?" he said as she pressed the stall button, not caring that a few people would be inconvenienced."Rachel I—

She didn't allow him to get anymore words out before she attacked his lips with hers, and with an alarming amount of strength for someone so small, she backed him against the wall and continued to kiss him with the sort of passion and longing that only existed in trashy romance novels. He swept her hair back and began to kiss her neck as she unbuckled his belt and he reached under her skirt, sliding down her underwear.

"Sorry, I know this isn't much of a honeymoon," Finn joked.

She giggled, "As long as it's with you it's perfect Finn." And she closed the distance between them again. He was barely inside of his own head, his hands and his lips were everywhere, exploring every part of her with almost reckless urgency. She sighed a little as he hoisted her up and backed her against the wall, plunging his tongue into her mouth as she lightly tugged on his hair and at that he pushed himself into her, and she gasped softly into his mouth and clenched her fists into his hair, hurting him in the best way. "I'm going to miss you so much," he whispered into her hair.

"I'll write you every day," she panted.

"You promise?"

"Every day," she insisted. "I love you, Finn Hudson."

"I love you too, Rachel Hudson." He said, loving the way that sounded.

_I wanted that last kiss to last a lifetime_

_Please tell me you're actually talking about a kiss Grampy_

…

* * *

><p>He knew that she was going to cry, he hated to see her cry.<p>

"Now you promise me that you'll be careful," She said, smoothing out the lapels on his uniform even though they were plenty smooth already.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, I promise." Finn said rubbing her arms comfortingly.

"And Puckerman you better take care of him," she said next.

"I will, he's like a brother to me," Puck said, "Now give me some sugar girl." And she smiled and hugged him before he got onto the train, giving them a few moments alone.

"I love you so much baby," Finn said, trying not to cry and failing miserably.

"I want you to have this," she said, handing him a small box. "It belonged to my father Leroy. He gave it to me before he died and I fully expect for you to return it to me."

He began to open it.

"No," she said, stopping him. "Wait until you get on the train."

"I don't have anything for you," he said.

She only shrugged and kissed him sweetly. "I love you."

As the last call sounded Finn kissed her one last time and turned away quickly, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes, and not wanting to see the tears in hers.

"What is that?" Puck said as Finn sat down and began to open the small box.

"It's a gift, or more like a loan." Finn said, his voice breaking a little. As he looked inside the small box he smiled a little. It was a silver harmonica, engraved with the picture of a bald eagle and there was a note tucked beside it.

_For Finn,_

_Who loves music and loves to fly. Be safe my love._

_Always,_

_Rachel Hudson._

* * *

><p>"Wow Grampy," Tabby said. "I never knew any of that."<p>

"Nobody did," Finn said. "As far as our family was concerned we married in 1946, 5 years later."

"And she really wrote you every day?"

"I still have all the letters, I didn't always understand the damn things, your Gramsy was always using those fancy words, drove me crazy."

"You still miss her don't you."

"Every day," he said softly, "Every day."

**Yes there is a reason this is called War Stories, I'll definitely be getting into the war more and involving most of the other characters, but this story will still be largely about the love. Stay tuned for more.**


	3. Gleeful Tabby

**Author's note: Couple of things, If you're having trouble picturing Tabby's look and voice, think Brie Larson (with red hair), if you don't know who that is, type _The Clash at Demonhead- Black Sheep_ into youtube, it will take you to a video of her singing. It's not so much that I'm not creative enough to come up with an OC, it's just she's who I happened to picture when writing it, and I'm kind of stuck with it at this point, which isn't such a bad thing because Brie Larson is pretty awesome. Also, I'll admit it, I'm a little bummed about the lack of reviews on this, but that's okay, I'm enjoying writing it and I really hope you're enjoying reading it, even if you choose not to comment (I don't hold that against you by the way). On another note, for Finchel fans who enjoyed the last chapter, yes there will be more Finchel, but not for a few chapters, until then there will just be references to them, and plenty of Finn. I didn't want to get into who is going to be paired with whom too much, just to keep the whole romantic suspense going and also to keep from immediately repelling certain shippers. One last thing, I forgot to mention this but there was a pretty big inside joke in the last chapter. Finn's year of birth in this story is around 1920, yet he says that his father was killed in the Great war which ended in 1918, making it pretty much impossible for his father to have been killed in that particular war, and in the actual show Finn's father is said to have been killed in the Gulf war which ended in 1991 despite Finn being born in 1994. So while it was a mistake I decided to leave it due to the unwitting significance of it. Okay I'm going to stop talking now because this is getting to be the longest author's note ever written.**

Glee club was Tabby's favorite time of the school day. Music ran in her family, Her grandfather and grandmother were both singers, albeit only one of them did it professionally, her uncle Christopher played almost every instrument known to man and was a great dancer in his heyday even though his own father was completely awful and his mother was just okay. Her aunt Betty was an Opera singer, and her mother and father had a semi-successful Alt-rock band in college. Tabby herself was into sensitive Indie rock like Death Cab and Florence and the Machine, for her glee audition she sang The Way I am by Ingrid Michaelson, much to the chagrin of her annoying co-member Stuckey who referred to it as chick crap. Why Mrs. Hendricks insisted on making her sing every song with that asshat was beyond her, She knew he only joined to bang that slut Kennedy Fagin who couldn't sing to save her life yet was still convinced that she would win American Idol one day. Actually Tabby would never admit this, but Stuckey was kind of a brilliant singer, and Mrs. Hendricks always claimed that they had musical chemistry, whatever the hell that meant. But aside from having to put up with Stuckey the annoyingly talented neanderthal and Kennedy the annoyingly untalented media obsessed dumbass glee was the only place at that school where she really felt at home.

"Hey ginger," Stuckey whispered over to her as he took his seat in glee club, causing her to roll her eyes. "I was thinking we should do Sex by Berlin for our Duet assignment."

"Why don't you ask Kennedy Faketits?" Tabby scoffed. "I'm sure that's a subject she knows back and front."

"Good play on words there coppertop."

"Do you think you can lay off the outdated redhead jokes? I get enough of that from my crazy grandpa."

"What's your beef with Kennedy anyway?"

"Hey Stevie, hey firecrotch," Kennedy said, passing by them and heading toward her seat, Tabby couldn't help but roll her eyes as Stuckey took a quick and none-too subtle look at Kennedy's ass as she passed by.

"Aside from the fact that she apparently thinks my name is firecrotch, nothing."

"Look all kidding aside, this club is repressed as fuck, I think it's a lot of the reason our dancing is so stiff. If we can rile them up a little we might actually have a shot at nationals,"

"By the club is repressed you mean I'm repressed right?" Tabby said.

"You said it not me," Stuckey said, shrugging, "Besides it seems like a waste that you always go for the hearts and flowers stuff, whether you like it or not your voice is sexy as hell."

Her face grew hot at the comment. She was blushing, damn him. "If it's all the same _Stevie_ I think I'll pass," she said, mocking Kennedy's singsongy faux-coyness at the mention of his name.

"Hey guys!" Mrs. Hendricks the choir director said enthusiastically as she pranced in, sheet music in hand.

* * *

><p>It was a pretty standard glee practice. Tabby sang <em>The Show <em>by Lenka which got a positive reception from all of the non-Stuckey and Kennedy members of the club, and Stuckey did a killer rendition of _Howlin' For You_ by The Black Keys, that she would have enjoyed if he hadn't been looking at her almost the whole time with a super pervy grin on his face. Why he lived to fuck with her was a mystery, but she decided to shrug it off as she unchained her bicycle, preparing for her visit to the VFW that day. For once her mother didn't have to force her to visit her grandfather, she had actually enjoyed the last visit, but that wasn't the only reason she had agreed to put in some volunteer hours with a bunch of cantankerous veterans, the truth was after that story she was beyond curious about meeting Noah Puckerman.

"Hey mom, Tabby said into her phone as she stuffed her bike chain into her backpack. "I'm heading to the VFW but I should be back before dinner… Grampy's old war buddy is coming to play cards… because, I don't know he seemed interesting when Grampy talked about him, and they need a forth for poker… I _am_ telling the truth… okay I love you, I'll see you later." She sighed and shoved her phone in her pocket.

"So what kind of sixteen year old girl spends her afternoon with a bunch of geriatrics?" Stuckey said coming up behind her.

"What are you following me now?" Tabby said.

"To the parking lot? Where literally hundreds of students and teachers park their cars including myself?"

"What do you want Sticky?" she groaned.

"I want to give you a ride, I'm headed that way anyhow."

She mulled it over for a moment, thinking that she wasn't exactly looking forward to the two mile bike ride uphill, and it would give them an opportunity to discuss the setlist for nationals.

"Fine," she said. "I guess I could use a ride."

"Gee, you're welcome," Stuckey said, lifting her bike into the back of his van next to his amps and drum set, making her involuntarily blush a little when she noticed how his muscles flexed. Stuckey was always a little on the thin side, much like the horny British rockers he so badly wanted to emulate, so the subtle flash of muscle was an unexpected treat. But she wouldn't think about that, nor would she think about his peirching green eyes and full lips and Johnny Depp cheekbones and how much she badly, badly wanted to...

"You coming or what?" He said, snapping her out of her trance.

* * *

><p>Tabby and Stuckey pulled up to the Lima VFW, a depressing stucco coated building lined with wimpy trees held up by posts and an American flag that was far too big in comparison to the modest space it occupied. She had been there once before, for a fourth of July picnic four years earlier, and not much had changed except for the depressing beige paint job being traded in for a somehow even more depressing off-white one.<p>

"So, thanks for the ride," She said, "I'll just get my bike."

"You can get it after," Stuckey replied.

"After what?"

And at that he jumped out of the van and met her on the other side. "I told you I was headed this way."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What? I like to visit with the old and sickly is that so surprising?"

"You know what I don't have time for your bullshit right now Sticky, let's just go inside."

She noticed him immediately, he was sitting by the window across from a shorter, darker man who could only be Noah Puckerman, her Grampy's literal BFF. From what she had heard Puck was a real heartbreaker in his day, she wouldn't know that looking at him now, with his beat-up newsboy cap pulled down onto his obviously bald head, and his dorky suspenders hitching his pants up a little too high and his wrinkled arms adorned with blurry, bluish tattoos hanging out of his ill fitting T-shirt.

"Well what do you know," Finn said meeting his granddaughter's eye. "We have a visitor."

"Thank you for not pretending to forget me this time, are you in a good mood for once?" she said.

"_I_ sure am," Puck said. "Why hello gorgeous." He continued straightening his hat and arching his back a little. She tried to stifle a giggle, 90 years old and Noah Puckerman still had it… sort of.

"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Tabitha Hudson but you can call me Tabby. And this is—

"Steven my boy," Puck said, getting a shocked expression from Tabby. "How the hell are ya?"

"Puckasaurus my man," Stuckey said, trading an unwieldy handshake with the older man.

"Wait a minute, you two know each other?" Tabby said.

"Yeah, he's my Great uncle," Stuckey explained.

"Oh course he is," Tabby said under her breath.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Hudson right?" Stuckey said putting his hand out for Finn to shake.

"Did you bring cookies?" Finn said, ignoring the boy's extended hand.

Tabby rolled her eyes and reached into her backpack, pulling out a Tupperware container filled with dark chocolate chunk cookies.

"This ain't that sugar free nonsense is it?"

"Half sugar half Splenda, and you can only eat one today."

"It'll do I guess, sit down we're gonna play some cards," Finn said kicking out a chair for her.

"What about a fourth?" Tabby said.

"That would be me," Stuckey said, sitting down at one of the two free chairs. "I've never played here before, my usual venue is Emerald Gardens retirement community, I hope the change of scenery doesn't throw off my game."

"Don't you worry about that, I'm sure you'd play lousy anywhere," Puck said, making Tabby giggle.

"Oh you think that's funny huh?" Stuckey said, playfully tossing one of the chips at her. It gently bounced off of her collar bone and landed on the floor before proceeding to roll across the room.

"Thanks numbnuts," Tabby said before getting up to fetch the poker chip.

Puck leaned over to Stuckey and nudged him softly. "You sweet on her?"

"You have no Idea," Stuckey whispered back. "Too bad she friggin' hates me."

"Trust me, it's all talk, I know from experience."

"What experience would that be?"

"Oh here we go again," Finn sighed exasperatedly. "Are you still going on about that French Dame?"

"What French Dame?" Tabby said, taking her seat.

"Listen up youngsters," Puck said beginning to pass out the cards, "The year was 1942, the year that I met my destiny…"

**Keep reading!**


	4. The Andover

**Sorry for the mild bits of sexism and racism in this fic, I'm just trying to speak to the time.**

"It was January 1942, England was still recovering from the Blitz and America was still mourning the loss of some of our best men at Pearl Harbor. The Japs were—

"Dude, you don't say Jap anymore," Stuckey interrupted.

"What? I don't have any problem with the Japs, one of our best men was a Jap," Puck argued.

"No, Mike was Chinese, he was just married to a Jap—"

"Okay stop saying Jap," Tabby said frantically, cutting Finn off.

"Anyway," Puck continued. "It was one of the coldest winters England had seen in years, and that was really saying something."

England, 1942

Finn lied in his cot, playing his heart out on Rachel's Harmonica. He'd gotten rather good as the months raged on and the music was the only thing that helped warm them up. Mike and Matt danced and Sam plucked the guitar, his fingers raw and red from the cold, while Puck rubbed his arms beneath the thick blanket coughing violently.

"Why'd you stop?" Puck said as they stalled the music and turned toward him.

"You okay Buddy?" Finn said.

"I'm fine," Puck said before dissolving into another coughing fit.

"You don't sound fine," Mike protested. "That cough is getting bad, maybe you should see the Doctor."

"I don't get sick," Puck insisted unconvincingly.

"In the time we've been here you've come up with every excuse in the book to see nurse Leoni and now that you have an actual problem you've gone all phobic?" Finn said.

"He probably just doesn't want her to see him all weak and vulnerable," Artie teased.

"Nobody called me vulnerable when I shot down all those bombers during the Blitz," Puck managed to choke out between fits of coughing.

"I'm serious Puckerman you better go see the doctor before I drag you," Finn said sternly.

"Will that shut you guys up?" Puck said.

"For now," Artie said, shrugging.

"Fine, but after sewing up that six inch gash in Rutherford's head she's gonna think I'm a pansy," Puck said.

"As if she doesn't think that already," Finn said.

* * *

><p>"Doc says It's a lung infection, nothing serious," Nurse Leoni said apathetically, handing Puck some pills "Take these twice a day for the next week or so, that should clear it up just fine."<p>

"So when I'm up and about again what do you say you and I—" Puck didn't have a chance to finish his thought as he began to have another coughing fit.

"If you're going to try to ask me out again you might want to try not getting your germs all over me," she said icily.

"Come on, why won't you go out with me? We both know there's something there."

"Trust me you're not my type," She said.

"Why because I'm not Italian? You're really committing to that lie aren't you?"

"Excuse me," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Trust me I get it, I know it's hard for colored girls to get in here, don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Her face grew hot at the suggestion.

"So what are you some kind of Spanish? Maybe a bit of negro in there?" Puck said "Don't be embarrassed, I like an exotic woman."

"Do you think you can keep your mouth shut?" she seethed, looking back and forth frantically.

"You can at least tell me your real name. We both know it isn't Sandra Leoni."

She exhaled sharply in defeat and looked up at the ceiling. "Lopez," she said, quietly. "Santana Lopez."

"Much better," Puck said. "Now how about that date?"

"Get the hell out of here Puckerman," she said, annoyed.

_"Wait just a second, you knew Santana Lopez? As in one of my favorite feminist writers of all time Santana Lopez?" Tabby said._

_"Yup we both did," Finn cut in. "She was one tough cookie I'll tell you that."_

_"I know, I did my history term paper on her collection of essays, she was one of the first female law professors at Stanford University, one of the most vocal and inspirational advocates for women's rights in the 20th century…"_

_"And she had cans that wouldn't quit," Puck said interrupting Tabby._

_Stuckey snickered a little at the comment, causing Tabby to elbow him._

_"What?" Stuckey said, "Apparently she had cans that wouldn't quit."_

_"I thought we we're talking about the love of your life," Tabby said. "It couldn't have been Santana Lopez I mean first of all she's not French second she's a…"_

_"I'm getting to that," Puck cut in. "Anyway the next week me and the boys were to be sent on a mission to assist the soviets in going up against an entire fleet of enemy fighter jets. It was the most dangerous mission most of us were likely to take part in, so the night before we decided to throw caution to the wind._

_"Let me guess, you went scavenging for dames," Tabby said._

* * *

><p>The Andover Pub had become Puck's home away from home in the time that had passed, in fact it had become the go to place for many a young American soldier to feel welcome in a strange new country. Puck, Finn, Artie, Mike, Matt and Sam braved the weather to enjoy a few beers between friends, and with the exception of Finn and Mike they had all hoped to snag a beautiful girl to warm up the cold night with.<p>

"To taking out those Nazi sons of bitches one by one," Puck said, raising his glass, to which the other's joined suit.

"I'll drink to that," Finn said. "And to Rachel…"

"Come on man, not that again," Puck said, "I'm getting real sick of you talking our ear off about that broad."

"That broad is my wife Puck," Finn protested. "And she said to tell you hello in her last letter."

"Tell her those cookies she sent were tops," Puck said.

"Will do," Finn said taking a swig of his ale.

"Check it out man," Sam said, nudging Finn as he set his glass back down, "Nurses."

The boys turned their heads to See Santana, nurse Pillsbury, Nurse Pierce and Nurse Zises enter the Pub, all looking rather fetching in their winter clothes.

"I got dibs on Britt, you know what that accent of hers does to me," Artie said, before getting up from his stool and adjusting his tie.

"She's all yours, that is one dizzy broad," Sam said under his breath.

"Why hello Arthur," Britt said in her charming English accent. "You're looking well, I take it no wild bunnies have wriggled their way into your knapsack."

"Not that I know," Artie said, quite used to her odd non-sequiters at that point.

"Well that's fortunate. I can't count the number of times that's happened to me, I suppose I shouldn't let them in the barracks but they just seem so cold out there."

"Can I buy you a drink?" Artie said.

"I would love one thank you."

"Hey Puckerman," Santana said, taking off her heavy coat and shaking the snow off before sitting next to Puck.

"Wow, you addressed me without any insults today, did I die on your table?" Puck said.

"I just wanted to thank you is all," Santana said. "It's nice to have somebody know the truth about me, well about that anyway," she said under her breath.

"That's swell, I've been looking to get thanked for months," he said smugly, to which she rolled her eyes.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's not going to happen," She said firmly. "But, you see that girl over there…"

Puck turned his head to where she was pointing. He couldn't believe he didn't notice her before, she was stunning, easily the most gorgeous creature he'd ever laid his eyes on. Her hair was blonde and shining and curled to perfection, her eyes were a lovely chartreuse framed by mile long lashes and her lips, currently wrapped around a cigarette that she was having trouble lighting, were like fresh spring roses.

"Yeah, I see her," Puck said dreamily.

"Let me see if I can get you an opening," Santana said hopping up from the stool and traipsing up to the blonde. He looked over at them as they talked. He couldn't tell what Santana was saying but she pointed over her shoulder and the blonde looked up at him. Usually when a cute dame looked at him, he'd do something suave like tip his glass to her, but by the time he did she had already turned her gaze back to Santana. He wished he knew what she was saying, she seemed to be shaking her head and shrugging which wasn't exactly the best sign. At that Santana made her way back to Puck.

"Sorry," Santana said. "She doesn't speak any English."

"Trust me talking wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Puck said, still staring at the blonde.

"Maybe I can fix you up with Zises," Santana said.

"Nurse Zises is a real dish and all but she can't compare to that, I have to talk to her, what language does she speak, she's not German is she?"

"She sounded French," Santana said.

"French, I actually know some French, this is perfect thank you," Before she could convince him otherwise Puck got up to talk to the radiant blonde.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle, vous voir très charmant cette nuit je graver vos cigarettes peut (Hello miss, you be seeing very lovely this night may I burn your cigarette)" Puck said holding out a lighter for her. She looked up at him, her face expressionless and leaned in to allow him to light her cigarette for her.

"Merci, maintenant aller loin (Thank you, now go away)" she said icily.

"J'ai pas étonnant que je ne vous voit ici auparavant (I be surprising that I not sees you here previously)"

"I said go away," she repeated firmly, in perfect English.

"I thought you didn't speak any English," Puck said sitting across from her and lighting a cigarette of his own.

"I say that to keep the Americans at bay," she said dismissively sucking on her cigarette. "I didn't realize any of you knew French, well, barely, but still enough to irritate me."

"Why, what's so bad about us?"

"All I want is to have a drink without being bothered is that so much to ask?"

"Kind of, when you choose to do your drinking in a crowded bar," Puck said. "So what brings you to the UK?"

"Are all American men this hard of hearing?"

"Are all French dames this mean?" he shot back.

She rolled her eyes and sighed a little, defeated. "I'm only here for the week. I'm leaving for America on the first." Her expression changed as she said it, from cold and hard to a bit sad.

"Well what do you know, you must not hate Americans that much, you're becoming one."

"I don't hate Americans, and I'm not becoming one," she said.

"So I'm guessing something pretty bad must've happened to you huh?" Puck said. "I sense a lot of pain behind those pretty eyes of yours."

She shifted her eyes down and took another drag from her cigarette.

"Mr…

"Puckerman," Puck said, finishing her sentence. "Noah Puckerman."

"Mr. Puckerman, If you don't mind I'd like to be left alone," she said, not meanly, her voice breaking a bit.

"That's fair, but before I go there's something I wanted to say."

"What's that?"

"When I was two years old right after my dad left I immigrated to America from Amsterdam with my mom, she wanted to give me a better life and what not, even if it meant leaving our family behind. She tried to convince her parents and her brothers to go, but they wouldn't budge, Amsterdam was home. So me and my mom made a life for ourselves just the two of us until my sis came along, and as much as things were better off for us she didn't want me to forget where I came from, so I'd spend most summers in Amsterdam learning to fix cars with my uncles and fishing with my grandpa and teaching my cousins to play the guitar and teaching my grandma the Charleston.

"Do you have a point?" she said curtly.

"Yeah, I do, three years ago when I was 18 I was all set to go, spend my last summer there before I joined up. But I didn't go, because at that point I had no family left to spend my summer with. Those Nazi bastards took them all one by one, and I suppose they could still be alive, I have no way of knowing. The only hope I have left is to win this war. So you see miss, I know you're thinking I'm just some dumb flyboy looking to play with shiny weapons and show off my medals to pretty girls such as yourself, but this war hits closer to home than you may think, so whatever you may have went through that forced you out of your home, I understand better than you know."

She simply looked at him, speechless. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"You take care miss," he said, flicking his cigarette and getting up to leave.

"Wait," she said, and he turned around to face her. At that she got up and grabbed him by the arm, leading him toward the restrooms.

"Way to go Puckerman," Sam yelled after him, prompting Puck to put a finger to his lips, shushing them.

As they entered the dark corner she shifted her eyes back and forth making sure no one was close by before beginning to unbutton her blouse.

"Whoa miss, I'm flattered but if you don't mind I think I'd rather take it someplace a little more private.

"Don't be an idiot," she spat, and with one had she swooped her long hair back and with the other she pulled down the sleeve of her silky blue blouse, revealing a deep, round scar in her shoulder, instantly recognizable as a gunshot wound. "This is why I'm going to America Mr. Puckerman," she continued. "I was hiding four Jewish families in my basement after the occupation, but I was found out. The Nazis killed the families along with my mother, father, sister and nephew and left me for dead. I was shot and my home was set on fire. The fact that I escaped with my life was nothing short of a miracle. I spent some time in Versailles with family but it got to the point where France didn't feel much like home anymore. I needed a new start. I'm sure you understand that."

He simply nodded, he didn't know what to say to that, what could he say to that?

"So forgive me if I'm not looking be romanced Mr. Puckerman," she said, buttoning her blouse.

"Hey, I just want to buy you a drink," he said.

She bit her lip in contemplation, her stare nearly burning through him. "Fine," she said a little coldly. "I'll take a Cognac."

"Cognac it is, by the way, what's your name beautiful?"

She smiled a little and rolled her eyes, "Quinn, Quinn Fabray"

"Bartender!" Puck cried. "Two cognacs."

She followed him out of the dark corner and they sat together, and he lit another cigarette for her and one for him.

"So Miss Fabray, what do you plan to do when you land?"

"Merci," she said to the bartender as he handed her the drink, she turned toward Puck and shrugged. "I don't know, I have money saved, I suppose I'll get an apartment, maybe attend a university."

"Where are you headed? New York? LA?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, all I know is that I want to be anywhere but Europe."

"Well you're awfully brave I know that."

She scoffed at the comment. "I'm not brave, if I were brave I wouldn't be running. I'd stay, try to make things better," she sipped her cognac and grimaced a little at the burning sensation of the liquor.

"Hey. Don't be so hard on yourself, you're only one woman."

"And what does that mean exactly?" she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I meant you're only one person, don't take offense."

"So," she said, sipping her drink. "What do _you_ plan to do when you go back home?"

"Start a band," he said.

"A band, like a jazz band?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah, with me on vocals and my buddy Finn over there on drums," Puck said pointing at Finn.

"You're going to start a jazz band with two people, and no brass instruments of any kind?"

"You can join if you want, you play any instruments?"

She shook her head and put out her cigarette,"So what are you actually going to do when you go back to America?"

He shrugged. "I guess I haven't thought that far ahead yet, I like to live in the moment."

"Well Mr. Puckerman, I suggest we do just that."

* * *

><p>He wasn't sure whether it was the Cognac, or the weather or the fact that she was leaving and didn't have anything to lose, but she left with Puck that night. It wasn't exactly a rare thing for Puck to leave with a beautiful woman after a night of wining and wooing, but Quinn was different, special. Everything was on her own terms and rather than feeling like less of a man for it he felt strangely aroused.<p>

"This is a nice room," he said entering her hotel, she didn't say a word the entire cab ride over and she continued her silence as she removed her heavy coat and tossed it on the chair. "So are you a—

She cut him off with a kiss, yanking him into her so hard he felt as if his neck might snap.

"No talking," she said breathlessly unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yes ma'am," he agreed unbuckling his belt. Her kiss was firm and heated, stealing his breath and making his heart pound. And she tasted like cognac and smoke and a subtle sweetness that he couldn't place. His head was in a fog when she kissed him, so different from other girls that he could play like a fiddle. He didn't remember to run his hands through her hair seductively or gently kiss her neck, making her giggle. He couldn't keep track of where his hands were, he only knew that he felt silk and warm flesh under them. He wasn't sure if he was pushed or if he simply lost his footing, but the next thing he knew he was on her bed and she was straddling him, pulling her top off over her head. He couldn't believe how beautiful she was, she was like an angel with the ferocity of a demon burning behind her eyes, and she dominated him without even trying.

_"Uncle Puck it kind of seems like she was making you her bitch," Stuckey cut in._

_"Don't be a smartass," Puck said._

"I don't usually do this," Quinn said breathlessly as she tore her mouth from Puck's. "I was raised to be a good little Christian."

"So why the change of heart? Not that I mind."

"When god decided to kill my whole family I decided I deserved to break the rules a little," she said. "That and I guess I feel sort of fat today," she continued, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, you're definitely not fat," he said, to which she smiled and lowered herself onto him, kissing him again, stealing his breath again.

"I hope you know this means nothing." She said.

"I've been there honey."

"I'm just making sure that we understand each other." And she kissed him again and he ran his hands up and down her slender body.

"Hey, can you do something for me?" Puck said.

"What's that?" She said, kissing his neck.

"Say something sexy to me in French."

She rolled her eyes and smirked, "Je suis assis sur le dessus d'un crétin américain, je vais probablement le regretter dans la matinee, (I'm sitting on top of an American moron, I'll likely regret this in the morning)." She said between soft kisses to his mouth and neck.

"I only got like every three words of that but it sounded real nice," Puck said squeezing her ass a little and sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. He was hers completely, even if only for that night.

* * *

><p>She silently smoked a cigarette as she lied there next to him in the afterglow of their intense, angry lovemaking. He tapped his cigarette over the ashtray and glanced over at her. The sadness in her face, the brownish red circle scarring her perfect skin, the way her hand shook a little as she put the cigarette up to her lips made her seem so much more vulnerable, so much more complicated than she probably wanted him to believe. And part of him wanted to ask her if she was afraid, if she ever second guessed starting over all alone after her entire world had been yanked out from under her, but he didn't ask, he just stared.<p>

"What?" she said, somehow knowing that he was looking at her even without looking at him.

"You know, I think you might just be the most beautiful girl in the world," he said, meaning every word.

"You don't have to butter me up, you already got what you wanted," she said taking another puff.

"Are you always so cynical?" he said.

She tapped her cigarette over the ashtray and finally met his gaze. "Yes," she admitted.

"Well I think you should know that what I really want is to see you again, before you leave," he said sincerely. "I'm going to battle tomorrow, but I'm coming back, I promise you that, and when I do I'm going to find you Quinn, even if you don't want me to."

She stubbed out her cigarette and turned on her side. "What if you don't, then what?"

"Then I guess you'll have to find me."

He could tell that she was trying not to smile, and failing pretty miserably. It was enough of a response for him. He put out his cigarette and pulled the blonde into his arms pressing a kiss to her shoulder where the bullet had been not so long ago.

* * *

><p>Flying, there was something about flying, even through enemy fire. It was terrifying and freeing at the same time. That was the appeal of being a pilot, even if they died, they would die flying, they would die heroes, and there was no better way to go.<p>

"I'm going in Puckerman," Finn radioed to Puck "If I don't make it out of here tell Rachel I love her, over"

"You're going to make it, stop being such a damn sap," Puck radioed back. "I got you covered, we're gonna take those bastards down together, over."

Puck's knuckles grew white as he flew in shooting. There was no time for fear or hesitation or even prayer as he fired at the enemy, gracefully dodging the barrage coming in from every conceivable angle. He couldn't give himself time to worry about the boys. He knew that he was more skilled then the others, with the possible exception of Finn who's capacity to think quickly was entirely reserved for air battle, still, he had to believe that they would be safe, that they would all be sharing a round at Andover once more.

"Whoo!" Puck shouted as he shot down his first jet in battle. "Did you see me take down that sonofabitch!" He said to no one in particular. He continued to fly, continued to fire even as he took a few precious seconds to celebrate. He shot down another, and another, like swatting flies, flies that could easily kill him if he let them get too close. It wasn't that it was effortless, his job couldn't have been harder, but when he was up in the air his instincts had a tendency to take over, and his instincts never steered him wrong.

"Puckerman watch your back!" Finn radioed in, and he dove to the side, missing the attack by an inch as Finn proceeded to take down the jet. At that he swooped back up, his heart pounding violently in his chest. "Puckerman ease off!"

"Not a chance," Puck said, firing into the swarm of jets.

"Quit showing off Puckerman, get out of there!" Finn cried. There was worry in his voice, and he knew that he was giving him reasons to worry, but Puck didn't worry, he didn't have time to worry, only fly, only fight.

* * *

><p>He didn't think his head had ever hurt so badly in his life, his mouth was dry and his throat burned, his muscles felt as if they had been thoroughly tenderized, and he couldn't see, he couldn't see anything, only light and shapes, a familiar shape, the shape of his best friend hovering over him, the feel of his hand holding his.<p>

"Are you holding my hand you pansy?" Puck managed to choke out.

"Put a sock in it Puckerman, after I saved your ass out there you should be kissing my goddamn feet," Finn said.

"Where was I?" Puck said, his vision coming to him little by little until he could finally begin to make out the medical ward that he laid in.

"You were out for almost a week." We didn't know if you would ever wake up," Finn said. "You messed around and got your wing clipped, you had to go for an emergency landing and you ended up crashing through the ice. If I wouldn't have pulled you out you would have frozen to death."

"Did we win?" Puck said.

"Yeah buddy, we won." Finn said, his face sad, betraying his words.

"Where are the guys?"

Finn's expression darkened. "Rutherford didn't make it," he said quietly, making unwelcome tears well up in Puck's eyes, "And Artie…"

"No, not Artie too, please," Puck said.

"He's alive, but he may never walk again," Finn said. Lieutenant Schuester said we were lucky that we didn't lose more men out there. Somehow it doesn't seem lucky."

"Matt, man…" Puck said, trailing off.

"He was a good one, he didn't say much but somehow it still seems a little quieter in the barracks now."

"I should have been there," Puck said.

"There was nothing you could do, don't beat yourself up. We all signed up for this, Matt knew what he was fighting for."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Puck said solemnly, wiping at the stray tears that had started to roll down his cheeks. "Finn, I'm going to ask you a question, and it's going to seem a little strange, but what day is it?" he continued, unable to believe that he could still be thinking about Quinn.

"It's the second, why?" Finn said.

He shrugged, trying not to show how utterly saddened he was by Finn's answer.

"No reason."

* * *

><p>"I never saw Quinn again after that," Puck said, "I suppose she got hitched at some point, because there was no one named Quinn Fabray on record by the time I got back to America."<p>

"That's so sad," Tabby said, her voice actually breaking a bit. "You were just one day too late."

"You had a one night stand with a cheese eating surrender monkey and you talk as if it was a romance for the ages."

"There was just something about that girl. 70 years later I still think about that night," Puck said, ignoring Finn. "And I still wonder sometimes if I'll ever see her again, probably not. But that's the thing about hope, it's the one thing that you can hold onto until the day you die, even when you lose everything else."

"That's deep uncle Puck," Stuckey said.

"He used to talk my ear off constantly about that dame," Finn said. "It was enough to make me want to punch him."

"Can you blame me, I mean you saw her."

"Oh I saw her, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life," Finn admitted. "But she still didn't hold a candle to your Gramsy."

"Yeah, you have your nerve, you were always yappin' about Rachel whether someone was listening or not," Puck said.

"I guess that's what love is," Stuckey said, "Annoying the hell out of your friends about feelings that they just don't get."

"I suppose it is Steven," Puck said, "I suppose it is."

"Alright, are we going to play some damn cards or not?" Finn said.

"That's the plan," Puck said. "Ante up gentlemen."

**I'm not too sure how to approach love scenes in this fic, I rated it T which means I can get away with some mild citrus, but I've never been particularly good at writing sex scenes seeing as my two biggest weaknesses as a writer are pacing and description, coupled with the fact that this story involves elderly men telling stories to teenagers I think it's best to leave certain things to the imagination in this one. I hope that doesn't disappoint anyone. Also, I love making Quinn kind of bitchy to Puck, mostly because I think he can handle it. Keep reading!**


	5. Making Nice

**Sorry this took so long to update. I'm actually busy for once this Summer.**

_As it withers_  
><em>Brittle it shakes<em>  
><em>Can you whisper<em>  
><em>As it crumbles and breaks<em>  
><em>As you shiver<em>  
><em>Count up all your mistakes<em>  
><em>Pair of forgivers<em>  
><em>Let go before it's too late<em>  
><em>Can you whisper<em>  
><em>Can you whisper<em>  
><em>Can you whisper<em>  
><em>Can you whisper<em>

_The bittersweet between my teeth_  
><em>Trying to find the in-between<em>  
><em>Fall back in love eventually<em>  
><em>Yeah yeah yeah yeah<em>  
><em>The bittersweet between my teeth<em>  
><em>Trying to find the in-between<em>  
><em>Fall back in love eventually<em>  
><em>Yeah yeah yeah yeah <em>

"That was good," Tabby said as they finished practicing for their upcoming solo.

"Yeah, totally," Stuckey said. "Good job with the song choice by the way."

Tabby stopped short at the comment, knitting her brow in confusion. "Wait, so you're actually complimenting my musical taste? Where did you bury Steven Stuckey? If you confess now you may get off easy. They might even let you keep that mask you made out of his face."

He shrugged. "Well, it pains me to admit it carrot top, but you don't always suck."

"Gee thanks," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're welcome," he said softly.

They stood there for a moment, each trying to think of something to say as they tried not to stare at each other.

"Yesterday, that was fun huh?" Stuckey said, breaking the silence. "Your granddad's a character."

"Yeah, sorry he kept giving you the stinkeye, he doesn't trust boys with long hair, different time."

Stuckey ran his hands through his neck grazing shag and shrugged. "Yeah, I've been meaning to get a haircut, you know, if only to confuse the man," he joked.

"I like it," she shrugged. "But you know, it's not like I care what your hair looks like."

"Oh please, that's all you ever think about and you know it."

Tabby chuckled a little. "Okay, you caught me," she said sarcastically.

"So, you know, if you wanted to go again today I'd be happy to give you a lift. I have to admit it was kind of cool hanging out with you."

She cleared her throat nervously and looked down at her feet, she wasn't sure what the deal was with Stuckey being so nice all of a sudden. But she had to admit it threw her off.

"Well he's going to be in New York for a couple of days visiting my uncle but I might swing by this weekend."

"I think your Grampy is great and all but don't you want to spend your weekend doing something a little more weekendy?"

"What, like Kennedy's party? I'm guessing you're going."

"I might swing by. What about you? Are you going?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"I guess I don't have to go either, you know, not if you don't want me to."

"Why wouldn't I want you to go?"

"I just know you're not the biggest Kennedy fan."

"Well I guess if I were as obsessed with her ass as you are then I could look past her horrible personality." Tabby said flippantly. She grimaced at the deafening silence that followed the comment, immediately regretting it. She really had to stop giving him reasons to think she gave a damn.

"Wow, a little catty there Tabs," he finally said.

"Yeah, I guess I kind of woke up on the wrong side of the bed," she said bashfully.

"Do you ever wake up on the right side?"

"Not since 2002."

"Ah, I see, that was the year you met me wasn't it?"

"You threw sand in my drink. That was literally our first encounter."

"It got your attention didn't it?" he said confidently. "What can I say, I thought you were cute."

She blushed a little at the comment. "You thought I was cute?"

"Yeah, with your little pigtails and that stupid save the dolphins T-shirt you were always wearing. I don't know, you were just… different." His green eyes stared into her and she tried to think of something, anything to say.

"So, you used to constantly fuck with me because you liked me," she said. "What's your excuse now?"

He turned up one corner of his mouth in a charming half smile and inched toward her. Part of her thought about backing away, the levelheaded part that wouldn't touch Stuckey with a ten foot pole, but that part of her was completely overpowered by the part that turned to goo when he gave her that look and felt her heart flutter as he tucked a stray bit of her fire-hued hair behind her ear and inched in seductively. And without giving herself a moment to think she parted her lips, ready for him to take them in his.

"What are you two still doing here?" as Mrs. Hendricks entered the room Tabby and Stuckey snapped out of their amorous stupor.

"Um, we were just practicing… um for the um…

"For our duet," Stuckey said, finishing for her.

"Well the debate team needs this room so you're going to have to skedaddle kids," Mrs. Hendricks said.

"Did you just say skedaddle?" Stuckey said, knitting his brow.

"It's fine, I should go to the library before it closes anyway." Tabby said, pulling herself together. "They just got a copy of Santana Lopez's memoir."

"Shut up, really?" Stuckey said a little more excitedly than she expected.

"I'll see you later Mrs. Hendricks," She said throwing her backpack over one shoulder and heading out, Stuckey following closely behind.

"The parking lot's the other way," she said as he began to follow her, she walked a little faster than usual, not wanting him to see her beet red face. She couldn't believe how close she had gotten to kissing Stuckey, the same Stuckey who had at least a dozen cheerleader shaped notches in his belt. She didn't get why he would want to kiss her in the first place, he was the coolest guy in school and she spent most days dodging slushies as she tried to get some new petition signed. It must have been some sort of conquest to him, bed the difficult uber-feminist who probably had a few lesbian rumors circulating. Whatever it was she wouldn't let herself fall for it, at least not more than she already was.

"I'm going with you," Stuckey said. "I'm actually curious about reading this thing, wouldn't it be awesome If uncle Puck or your Grampy got a mention? I mean, she does write about her experience in the war right?"

"According to the reviews," Tabby said.

They entered the library and made a beeline for the non-fiction section and began to shuffle through the books in awkward silence. "Here we go," she finally said slipping out the thick hardback.

"Dayumn," Stuckey said, looking at the grainy black and white photo of a twenty something Santana Lopez that decorated the front cover. "Nurse Lopez was a major hottie."

She couldn't disagree with him, she was incredibly beautiful, and as he flipped the book over to see a picture of 83 year old Santana Lopez taken when the book was first published seven years earlier she couldn't help but think she had aged rather well.

Stuckey began to flip through the book to the middle which contained more pictures of the stunning young Santana. "Oh my god, look at this," he said pointing to one of the pictures.

"Wow," she said smiling at the sight of her Grandfather and Stuckey's great uncle in their youth, posing for a photo with her. "This is amazing, I can't wait to show Grampy."

"Who's the hottie I wonder," Stuckey said of the other girl in the photo, a pretty young blonde.

"Santana Lopez is Pictured here with Navy pilots Finnegan Hudson and Noah Puckerman and Fellow Nurse Britt Pierce," she read out loud. "Oh, that must have been the 'dizzy broad' your uncle was talking about."

"There are actually a few pictures of her here," Stuckey said flipping through them, "I wonder what that's all about, were they just really good friends or what?"

Tabby chuckled a little under her breath.

"What?" Stuckey said cluelessly.

"Nothing," she said. "It's just, I think there's a possibility that they were a little bit more than friends."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, Santana Lopez came out in the sixties, and I don't know much about Britt Pierce but I do remember hearing about an affair she had with a woman she met in the Navy."

"So you're saying that those two babes were getting it on?"

"If that's how you choose to phrase it," she scoffed.

"Okay we are so checking this thing out," Stuckey said, digging frantically for something in his backpack, presumably his student ID.

"You are such a guy," she sighed.

They found a bench outside and took a seat, Tabby made a note not to sit to close, lest she catch herself in another awkward moment, but Stuckey clearly wasn't worried about that as he hovered over her slightly while she opened the book.

She cleared her throat nervously and began to read out loud, hoping he'd back up a little upon realizing that there was no need to read over her shoulder, no such luck.

"I think I can safely say that I've never been a fan of following the rules," Tabby read. "When other girls of my age and color were getting married, I changed my name, pretended to be an Italian and joined the Navy. The lie was more out of necessity than fear I suppose. I wasn't really afraid of much in my youth, I was never one to hold in my feelings about people or pass on a new adventure. But I wasn't fearless as it turned out, not really, but like many before me it took falling in love for the first time to realize just how afraid I really was..."

**That was largely a Tabby/Stuckey (Stubby? Stabby?) chapter, but don't worry, old Finn and Puck will be back soon. Song is Young Blood by The Naked and Famous.**


	6. Nurses

**So sorry about the super slow update. With grad school, never-ending job hunting, end of summer parties, concurrently working on another fanfic, and other independent writing projects I haven't had much time to work on this. I've felt really bad because I have some great stuff planned for this story. Please bear with me, I'm going to finish if it's the last thing I ever do.**

"I was for lack of a more demure word, a slut. By twenty years old I had bedded what felt like the entire population of Cleveland. It wasn't so much that I was a dumb girl, it felt more like I was searching for something, that feeling that you were supposed to have when you made love to someone. I figured if I did it enough then eventually I would feel something, it didn't take and I never understood why until the day I met her. I'd been attracted to women before, I believe the first time I've ever noticed a girl in that way was when I was nine and I stomped my neighbor's daughter's block house to get her attention. Nothing ever came of that relationship in case you were wondering. But Britt was different, open, kind and unafraid of everything that being with me would change for her. But like I said I was far from fearless and that fear was the very thing that drove her away."

"I guess we don't have to wonder how this story is going to end," Tabby said, shrugging.

"Hey don't be such a cynic, two hot girls getting frisky with each other could never end badly," Stuckey said.

"Anyway…" Tabby said rolling her eyes

We met in 1940 when I enlisted. I wanted to see the world, even if it meant going to war for a country that treated me as a second class citizen. They sent me to England in the beginning of The Blitz where I found myself face to face with death it seemed like every day. I wasn't the comforting type, most would say it was because I was cold, that wasn't the case, there was just something about holding a soldier's hand and telling him that everything would be okay, knowing that it wouldn't. There was something tragic in that, something that a hard girl like me couldn't handle without breaking down, and I couldn't allow myself to break down, I never had. The first time a man died on my table, she was the only one who could help me through it, and I'll never be able to repay her for that, or for everything after…

**England September 1940**

There was so much blood, more blood than she'd ever seen in her life. He was twisted and mangled and writhing in pain and covered in so much blood that he was completely unrecognizable, but according to his chart it was the reporter, Jacob Ben-Israel. She'd met him once or twice, and she remembered finding him rather annoying, but seeing him so broken and hopeless, sent to her to deal with in his dying hours, completely given up on, her heart broke for him. As much as he bugged her she always sort of admired how relentless he was, but that was over now. She gave him morphine to keep him comfortable, trying to keep her hand from shaking as she administered the medicine.

"C-can… you hold m-my hand?" he said weakly as she emptied the syringe, so she did, she held his bandaged hand, but she couldn't look at him, she couldn't break down, she wouldn't allow herself. "Can you t-talk to m-me?" he continued.

What could she say to that? What could she possibly say to make things better? There was nothing. "I-I…" she started, her voice breaking.

"Jacob is it?" They both turned their head to the source of the sweet voice. It was her, the British blonde they all maintained was a little crazy. The first time they ever spoke was when Santana tried to borrow a cigarette from her the first week in England, only to find out that she didn't smoke. It wasn't the only thing that they failed to share in common, Britt was kind and sweet to everyone, and Santana didn't have a sweet bone in her body. Santana was sharp as a tack and Britt was, at least on the outside, powerfully dumb, she did her job well, but outside the ward it was clear that she was a few beers short of a six pack. But Santana liked her in spite of herself. And it was moments like that that reminded her why.

"Y-yeah," Jacob said, struggling. Britt took his free hand and looked down at him lovingly.

"You're a reporter?" Britt asked.

"I was," he said.

"It's a very brave job sir, your country and ours owes you a debt."

"Th-thank you."

"You know I've always wanted to be a reporter. Sometimes I interview my cats, but they tend to be quite secretive," Britt said softly.

Santana just looked at her as she held his hand and spoke so sweetly to him, something that she just couldn't manage to do, and one corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. And unwelcome tears sprung to her eyes and she wiped them quickly before either of them could notice.

"I'm hurt… I'm hurt real bad aren't I?" he said fading. "I'm going away."

"You mustn't be afraid dear Jacob. What is your favorite thing in the entire world?"

"Gams," he said, the morphine having clearly taken affect, "And great big cans."

"Well Jacob, where you're going you can have as many of those things as you could possibly want and you can touch them and nobody will ever throw a drink in your face, unless you really want them to."

"Really?" he said dreamily.

"Really," she assured them.

"That sounds really nice," he said, his voice fading until it went silent.

Britt brushed her gentle hand over his eyes, shutting them.

"Thank you," Santana said, her voice breaking.

"Would you like to sit down?" Britt asked softly.

Santana simply nodded, trying not to cry, it didn't work, as she followed Britt out she collapsed onto the bench and began to retch powerfully.

"I'm sorry," Santana said quietly after freeing the bile from her stomach, and Britt sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly.

"It does get easier love," Britt said, gently combing Santana's hair with her fingers. "Your first death is always hard."

Santana reached into her pocket and grabbed her cigarettes and lighter, trying to keep her hands still as she placed one between her lips and lit it, taking a long, soothing drag. He body steadied after a few drags.

"Are you going to be alright?" Britt said.

"Yes," Santana said, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with her foot.

"Do you think you can go back in now?"

She nodded and stood up to return to the ward with Britt.

* * *

><p>Santana had managed to make it through the day without falling apart again, with the sheer number of men that had been injured or killed in the air raid she needed to be able to hold it together, and she did, her hands sometimes shook and tears sometimes reached her eyes, but her hands didn't go slack and the tears didn't spill over. It would get easier, she told herself.<p>

She brushed her long hair in the mirror, for the first time that day there was quiet, but the sounds of jets and gunfire and crying and screaming still seemed to ring in her ears, to silence it, she sang.

_Them that's got shall get_  
><em>Them that's not shall lose<em>  
><em>So the Bible said and it still is news<em>  
><em>Mama may have, Papa may have<em>  
><em>But God bless the child that's got his own<em>  
><em>That's got his own<em>

_Yes, the strong gets more_  
><em>While the weak ones fade<em>  
><em>Empty pockets don't ever make the grade<em>  
><em>Mama may have, Papa may have<em>  
><em>But God bless the child that's got his own<em>  
><em>That's got his own—<em>

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there." Santana said as Britt came in behind her.

"Your voice is lovely, please don't stop on my account," Brittany said. At that Santana began to harmonize without words.

"You did splendidly today," Britt said, taking the brush from Santana and beginning to brush her hair in back.

"Thanks by the way, for calming me down," Santana said, it was usually difficult for her to admit any imperfection on her part but for some reason it was easier to open up to Britt. "So, why did you decide to volunteer? I don't think I've ever asked you."

Britt shrugged. "I like to help people, I guess dancing for men helps people too, well, helps men."

"I think it suits you, you have that whole nurturing thing going for you."

"You do as well, you just don't see it Sandra."

"It can just get sort of hard, you know, pretending to care about people I don't know."

"You're not pretending," Britt said, continuing to brush Santana's long hair. "You're pretending to pretend, which is very confusing to me."

Santana looked at her and gave her a weak smile. "I wanted to get away, I wanted to get out of Cleveland, I just didn't think it would be this… hard. Does that make sense?"

Britt nodded and reached up to wipe away a tear from Santana's cheek that she didn't even notice had fallen.

"So, what did you do in Cleveland?" Britt asked.

"I was a waitress, I wanted to go to Law school but nothing ever came of it."

"Maybe it will," Britt said shrugging. "You mustn't give up Sandra."

"I don't understand how you stay so positive all the time."

Britt shrugged again. "I believed in Father Christmas until I was 17 years old, when others used to make fun of me for it I would tell them that you have to believe in something, otherwise there's no point in living."

"What do you believe in now?"

"Well right now at this very moment, I believe in you."

It was there again, that foreign feeling that caused her to stomp Sadie Houlihan's block house all those years ago, what was that feeling? That nervousness, that need to touch her, it was so strange and overwhelming, and she didn't like it. She didn't like the way Britt was looking at her either, as if she felt the same way. But she couldn't have felt the same, girls just didn't feel that way about other girls, not without something being wrong with them, then again, it was Britt Peirce, about the strangest girl Santana had ever met.

"Well, time for bed, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow Sandra," Britt said, snapping Santana out of her mild stupor as she handed her back her hairbrush.

"Santana…" Santana said as Britt started away.

"Yes?" Britt said.

"My name, it isn't Sandra, it's Santana, Santana Lopez."

"Hmm," Britt said, giving her a small smile, "That sounds like the sort of name a fairy might have." And with that she headed to bed without another word. Santana shook her head, she really was strange.

**May 1941**

It was over, after nine agonizing months the Blitz was declared over. The casualties across England numbered in the tens of thousands, soldiers and civilians alike. She had to spend those nine months watching many good men die, grateful for the lives she was able to save. And over those nine months she became closer and closer to Britt. Before long one was rarely seen without the other. They walked to the ward in the mornings, pinkies linked and spent many nights talking each other to sleep. It had gotten to the point where Britt's odd musings almost made sense. She became her best friend, and Santana had never had an actual best friend before, she had her admirers of course but she had never allowed herself to get close to anyone. There was only one problem, she didn't want to be Britt's best friend, she wanted so much more and the idea of that terrified her. She couldn't allow herself to act on everything she was feeling, even if she sometimes felt like Britt wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss Britt.

"Are you coming?" Britt said, finding Santana. They were both dressed to the nines that night to celebrate the Luftwaffe withdrawing from England. The fighting was far from over but that night they needed something to feel good about.

"You look pretty," Santana said walking up to Britt and fixing a loose strand of her hair.

"I'm hoping to catch the attention of Arthur tonight, he's the only single soldier I haven't snogged yet."

Santana's face fell at the comment. "Well, he'd be a fool not to want to snog you tonight Britt, I know I would." She said, regretting it instantly.

"I think you should wear your silver brooch tonight, you look so lovely when you wear it in your hair. And I'm sure Mr. Puckerman would like it. He fancies you you know."

"Noah fancies anything with a pulse," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Well you have a pulse, I'd say it's meant to be," Britt said.

"What if I told you I was interested in someone else?" Santana said giving her an intense look.

"Dr. Figgins?" Britt guessed.

"What? No." Santana said.

"Well whoever it is I'm sure they feel exactly the same way," Britt said, fastening the silver brooch in Santana's hair. "I know I would."

That was it, that did it, it had taken the better part of a year for Santana to get up the nerve to do it, but she couldn't help herself anymore. She didn't know what to expect, she didn't know whether Britt would push her off and avoid her for the remainder of her time in England but she risked it anyway, Santana leaned in slowly, giving the other girl the opportunity to stop it if she wanted to, but she didn't stop it, she leaned in too, until their lips touched in a kiss that Santana had been aching for for months on end.

_"Wanky," Stuckey said smarmily._

_"Grow up," Tabby shot back._

Everyone was already at the celebration, there was no one there to see Santana slowly unzip Britt's dress as she kissed her neck and shoulder, slowly, seductively. There was no one there to see Santana gently back Britt up to the bed, laying her down as they kissed, their tongues intertwined. There was no one there to see Britt slowly move her hand up Santana's thighs and unhook her garters, and let her kiss her neck and kiss her mouth, willing, unafraid.

"Sweet lady kisses," Britt said dreamily, to which Santana smiled and kissed her criminally soft lips again.

"I didn't think that you would be interested," Santana said between kisses.

"Because you're a smoker?" Britt guessed.

"No," Santana said, shaking her head. "Because I'm a woman."

"Boy, girl, I would think you were lovely no matter what you were," Britt said, smiling her warm smile at her. And Santana kissed her again and finished removing her dress and removed her own with a bit of struggle. And cupped her face and kissed her so deeply that she felt she might dissolve into her. She left her lips after awhile needing to taste every part of her, her firm breasts, her flat tummy, her creamy thighs, her soft knees, and the hot, fragrant place between her long dancer's legs. Britt's whole body shivered and her breath hitched in her throat as Santana placed her mouth there, holding her by the hips to keep her steady, to keep herself steady, to keep from floating away, and oh god was it everything she ever feared it would be, the scent, and feel, and taste of her, so strong, so overwhelming. It made her lightheaded, made everything fuzzy, made her lose herself completely.

* * *

><p>She knew it was silly to think that anyone had guessed why they arrived to the Andover late, still, Santana couldn't stave off the nagging feeling that everyone was staring at her, judging her. She tried not to think about it, about how good it had felt, because it felt better than anything had ever felt before and she wanted to do it again, and the thought of that terrified her. Why didn't it terrify Britt? How could Britt be so fine about it? didn't she worry what people would think if they ever found out? When she arrived she greeted everyone with a big smile as if nothing were different.<p>

"Hey Nurse Leoni—

"What?" Santana said shortly as someone tapped her from behind. She spun around to face him. It was Hudson, staring at her with wide eyes and his hands raised defensively.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said.

"It's fine," Santana said, shrugging. "What do you want?"

"Gee, somebody's awful touchy tonight," Finn said.

"What makes you say that?" Santana said defensively.

"Nothing, I'm just trying to say hi, last time I checked that wasn't illegal."

"Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, I've heard that's awful, I wouldn't know myself. But if you wanted to talk about it I'm here."

She didn't respond right away, she just looked at him, her eyes narrowed in contemplation. He really was quite handsome, and stupid enough to manipulate, which gave her a crazy idea.

"Yeah, let's talk about it," she said, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him behind her out of the room before he could protest.

"Nurse Leoni I—

She didn't let him finish as they entered the restroom and she crushed her lips to his, tasting the hint of booze on his mouth, and worrying slightly if he could taste Brittany on hers, but she shook off that thought as she pulled him into her so forcefully that he couldn't fight her off, not without hurting her, and she could tell by the way that he struggled that he wanted to, but that didn't matter much at that point.

_"I am going to kill my Grampy. He never told me any of this," Tabby said._

_"My god, was he the man or what?" Stuckey said._

_"Kissing someone who wasn't my gramsy doesn't make him the man."_

_"Were you even reading? She kissed him."_

_"Such a guy excuse."_

_"Just Keep reading daywalker," _

"Damn," Santana said, releasing him, he stood there, shocked and silent. "Nothing, why don't I feel anything?"

"Sandra, I'm flattered, really, but you know I'm married. You can't just-"

"Yeah, yeah you never shut up about it," she said flippantly. "That's all I wanted, you can go," she continued dismissively, waving him away.

He adjusted his tie and headed for the door but stopped short as he heard her sniffle behind him. "Goddammit," he said under his breath before turning back.

"Sandra, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," she said, crying. "I'm in love."

"I'm sorry about that, but if it makes you feel better if I was single I'd go out with you in a heartbeat."

"I'm not in love with _you_ you moron," she said.

"Is it Dr. Figgins?"

"Why does everyone think it's Figgins?" she snapped.

Finn simply shrugged and Santana continued to cry.

"Look, whoever it is you should just tell them how you feel," He said, taking a seat next to her on the counter.

"I can't, nobody can know about this, if they knew that I loved another…

She couldn't believe it, she couldn't believe that she had gotten that close to spilling everything to Finn Hudson of all people.

"Oh boy," Finn said quietly. "It's Britt isn't it?"

She looked at him, wide eyed and scared, before shaking her head and hopping off of the counter.

"Wait Sandra, wait a second," he said, catching up to her.

"I knew it, you can smell it on me can't you?" Santana cried. "And now you're going to tell everyone and get me kicked out of here aren't you?"

"No, never, I would never do that." Finn said frantically, holding her in place by the shoulders. "My wife, Rachel, her father, he was like you… and they hurt him, they killed him just for loving someone else. My sweet, beautiful wife who never did a thing to nobody, lost her father because he loved somebody, like there could ever be something bad or ugly in that."

"Oh my god," Santana said in almost a whisper.

"It's not fair, it's wrong and it's none of their goddamn business Sandra, but you have to live in their world. So if you want to protect yourself and protect Britt you can't tell anybody what you told me."

"I know," she cried. "I know that."

"I wish it could be different for you, and maybe one day it will be," he said, wiping a stray tear from her face with his thumb.

"I'm sorry, about Rachel," Santana said.

"Me too," Finn said before departing from her, leaving her thinking that that conversation went a lot differently than she'd imagined.

* * *

><p>Santana knocked back drinks at the bar and tried not to look at Britt, tried and failed. She didn't know how to explain it to her, how to tell her that they could never let what happened back at the barracks happen ever again. It hurt her just to think about. She couldn't avoid her all night though. Before long, Britt, slightly tipsy and ever affectionate came up and draped her arms around her.<p>

"Would you care to dance Santana?" She said.

"I told you not to call me that in public," Santana seethed.

"I'm sorry, would you care to dance, _not Santana_," Britt said.

And what she had to say next was enough to break her heart, but she knew that it would be better for her in the long run.

"Maybe you should dance with Artie," Santana said, her voice cracking. "He's had his eye on you all night."

"I really do fancy his suspenders," Britt said, looking dreamily at him. "But what about you? What about—

"We can't talk about that here Britt," Santana snapped, making Britt take a step back. "Just go ask him to dance, I'll be fine."

"Okay, I will then," she said, sounding a little hurt. And as Britt left it was all Santana could do not to cry.

* * *

><p>Her body heaved with quiet sobs as she laid on her side in the barracks, glad that everyone else was either sleeping or still at the Andover. She knew that Britt was still out, still out with him, and there was nothing that she could do about it, not without turning their whole world into upheaval. Still she was like Finn, she wished that things could be different, she wished with all of her heart and nothing made a difference. Britt was lucky, gender had no bearing on who she loved, she could be With Artie, and Finn could be with Rachel and Puckerman could be with whatever girl that he could manipulate with a weepy story about losing a lot of good men in battle. It couldn't be that way for Santana, Britt could never really be hers.<p>

She must not have heard Britt walk in over the sound of her own crying, but she felt the bed shift as she crawled into it and wrapped her thin arms around Santana's body and began to stroke her hair.

"Did you have a good time?" Santana whispered tearfully.

"Oh yes," Britt whispered back. "Arthur really is wonderful."

"I'm glad," Santana lied.

"Santana, there's something I wanted to tell you," Britt said. "I understand. I understand why you're afraid."

"I wish I wasn't, I wish I could be more like you."

"I hope one day you will be, and when that day comes, maybe things can be different for us."

"I hope so too," Santana said. "I love you Britt."

"I know, I love you too."

* * *

><p>"Those two words, "I understand," Those were the words I needed to hear so much. I would like to tell you that I got up the courage to shout my love for Britt from the rooftops and steal her away from Artie, but it didn't work out that way. The week I decided that I wanted to stay in Europe after the war and be with Britt, Artie's plane was shot out of the sky and he became paralyzed from the waist down. There was no way she could leave him after that. He proposed a month later before they sent him back to America. And she accepted. I went back home after the war naturally. But I returned to England in 1948 when I was accepted to Oxford Law. And I never lost touch with Britt, not even after returning to America in 1955, we wrote letters, she talked to me on the phone for an hour before I came out to my family in '61. She and Arthur attended my wedding to my long-term partner Celia in Denmark in 1989 and we remained the best of friends until the day she died in 1998. She was my first true love and I will never forget her. I sometimes wonder if we would have worked out had I had her type of courage, but then I push those thoughts aside. What she gave me was so much better than I could have imagined. She gave me the strength to be true to myself in a time when it felt impossible."<p>

"Huh," Stuckey said as she finished the chapter. "That was actually sort of sad."

"It's not sad, Stuckey, it's life." Tabby said. "Besides, the fact that they stayed friends for so long, there's nothing sad about that."

"Spending almost 50 years in the friend zone is definitely what I'd call sad. I wonder if anyone my uncle knew spent their whole lives with the one they really loved. You know, besides your Grampy."

"I guess I could ask him," Tabby said, shrugging. "And since when are you such a romantic?"

"Trust me I'm not, I'm from a broken home that's as unromantic as you can get."

"Not to be a bitch but that actually explains a lot," Tabby said.

"It's okay I know what you mean."

"You know Stuckey, part of that story really stood out to me."

"The part with the muff-diving?" Stuckey said, and she smacked him on the arm with the book.

"Do you think you get your head out of the gutter for long enough to have an actual conversation with me?"

"I can't promise that," Stuckey joked.

"Anyway, I meant the part where Santana was singing, my grandfather, your uncle, Artie Abrams and that guy Sam would jam together to stave off the cold, those other guys Michael Chang and Matthew Rutherford were dancers, so was Britt, and Santana sang Jazz. It's like almost everyone they knew in the war were performers, and a lot of them were from different parts of Ohio. What are the chances?"

"Hey you're right, that is sort of crazy." Stuckey agreed.

"And it gives me an idea, the VFW WWII reunion is coming up at the end of the month, maybe we should talk to Mrs. Hendricks about putting on a show for them, you know, to remind them of their love of performing. We could sing songs from the 40's, it would be a great way to prepare for nationals."

"And we'd be cheering up some lovable geezers, that's a great idea Tabs."

"You think?"

"Yeah, and chicks dig guys who care about old people."

Tabby rolled her eyes and got up from the bench. "Alright I'm out of here. Give this back to me when you're done reading it." She said tossing him the book. "We can talk more about the concert in glee tomorrow."

"Do you need a ride?" he said, getting up after her.

"Why the hell not?" She said, following him to his car.

**Boy was this a hard chapter to write, I know that it is possible to write Brittany in a way that fits a dramatic tone, but it definitely takes some thought. I just really wanted to write a solid Brittana story, I feel like I haven't given them enough love seeing as I ship Bartie just as much. I hope you weren't bummed out by the ending, but that's sort of how I see Brittana happening on the show, To me Santana needs Brittany to give her the strength to be honest with herself and they will always be best friends and love each other but won't end up together in the end, although I won't protest if they do. And anyone who more interested in the Finchel stuff, I promise I'm not done with them yet (the chapter after next will be Finchel-focused) but this story was always meant to be a multiple ship story.**


	7. Escape From New York

Tabby was feeling pretty accomplished. Mrs. Hendricks and the Lima VFW thought that the concert was an excellent idea. In fact, aside from some none-too subtle eyerolls and groans from a few assorted glee-clubbers and an ironic declaration from Kennedy that the others shouldn't knock the idea because hanging with senior citizens was likely the only way Tabby would ever land a boyfriend, the idea was well-received overall. Grampy landed back in Ohio the night before and that Saturday morning she was up bright and early, preparing cherry almond cookies to take down to the nursing home. Her mother had been pretty proud of her lately, the fact that she didn't have to be asked to visit the home anymore made things a lot easier on her.

"Alright mom, I'm off," Tabby said, heading out the door.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride?" Her mother said, poking her head in the room.

"No, I actually feel like getting some exercise today."

_If I didn't care more than words can say__  
><em>_If I didn't care would I feel this way?__  
><em>_If this isn't love then why do I thrill?__  
><em>_And what makes my head go 'round and 'round__  
><em>_While my heart stands still?_

_If I didn't care would it be the same?_

_Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?__  
><em>_And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?__  
><em>_Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?__  
><em>

She smiled a little as the song played on her Ipod and she pedaled away on her bike, the wind combing through her red locks. She thought her and Stuckey would sound nice singing it at the VFW concert, and she didn't even immediately recoil at the thought of singing a romantic song with Stuckey. It weirded her out a little how much she found herself thinking about him, and wondering if he was thinking about her. It wasn't as if she liked him or anything, because that was ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous… right?

She parked her bike in front of the home and chained it up before heading through the doors. "I'm here to see Finnegan Hudson," she said to the nurse at the front desk.

"Tabitha right?" the front desk lady said. "He's been asking about you."

"Really?" Tabby said, knitting her brow in disbelief as she followed the nurse to her grandfather's room. As she moved closer she could hear the commotion and she knew that he was having another one of his tantrums.

"Touch 'em and I'll break your damn arm," Finn barked at the orderly. The room was stacked with four large boxes, presumably things he had brought back from New York, and Finn was defending them like they were his life.

"Sir you can't keep these boxes here, it's a fire hazard."

"These are my things, you don't lay a damn hand on them," he fumed, his face red with anger.

"Sir…

"Don't patronize me kid, if you talk to me you call me sir."

"I did."

"Well the way you say it sounds feminine."

"Grampy!" Tabby said, getting his attention.

"Not now kid," Finn snapped as she entered the room. "This candy ass is trying to steal from me."

"Henry, leave Mr. Hudson alone," the Nurse said.

"But…"

"I mean it, go finish your rounds."

At that Henry the orderly scoffed and stalked out of the room.

"Mr. Hudson, make sure this mess is cleaned up by the end of the day," the Nurse said, Finn nodded once and she exited the room.

"What the hell took you so long?" Finn said.

"Sorry," Tabby said. "I was busy making these," she continued, handing him the Tupperware container. He took them and she could tell that he was actively trying to force the smile off of his face, he was so easy.

"You didn't bring that greasy, long haired kid with you today did you?" he said.

"Nope, just you and me," Tabby said, getting mild amusement out of Finn's description of Stuckey.

"Good, the kid needs to cut his hair," Finn said, taking a bite of the cookie.

"You've already established that you don't approve of Stuckey's hair length can we please move on?" Tabby said, "How was New York?"

"Too damn noisy, I don't see how people stand it."

"Didn't you live there for 40 years Grampy?" Tabby said.

"Biggest mistake of my life," He said. "Your Gramsy loved it, never understood why, everybody is loud, and nowadays people walk down the streets with metal in their faces like a bunch of hoodlums and bums pee everywhere like nobody ever taught 'em any better."

"Maybe no one did," she says shrugging.

"The only good thing to ever come out of New York was Sinatra and my wife."

"Sinatra was from Jersey."

"I don't think so," Finn said.

"Yeah I remember that from music appreciation class."

"Well then it doesn't even have Sinatra going for it."

"What if I told you I wanted to move to New York one day?" Tabby said.

"Send me a ticket, I'll show you all the best places." Finn said.

"I thought so," she said.

"Anyway, I need your help, Chris is moving to Boca so I can't keep these boxes in the old apartment anymore."

"They're selling it?" Tabby said worriedly.

"Subletting," Finn said. "I'd rather burn the place to the ground than let Chris sell it."

"Geez, that's a little melodramatic don't you think?"

"I already have to deal with Rachel haunting me all the time, imagine if I do something to make her angry like selling the old place."

"Gramsy haunts you?" Tabby said skeptically.

"All the time, I've tried getting her to stop but she's as stubborn as she always was."

Tabby doesn't know how to respond to that, so she doesn't, she just nods. "You know you never told me that Santana Lopez kissed you back in 41," Tabby said slyly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Finn said.

"You do too, she kissed you in the Andover bathroom. I read about it in her memoir."

"I don't think so," He said, clearly avoiding the issue.

"Fine, don't talk about it." She said, smirking and rolling her eyes.

"Anyway, do you mind keeping these boxes in your basement?"

"Yeah, I'm sure mom wouldn't mind picking them up," she said.

"Good, help me go through 'em first, I haven't looked through these in ages."

Tabby sighed, not exactly jazzed about spending the afternoon sorting through boxes, but she reluctantly agreed and opened up the first one.

"By the way, I talked to my glee coach about the club performing at the VFW reunion coming up."

"Oh yeah?" Finn said, going through one of the boxes. "They're not going to be singing that Queen Gaga are they?"

"It's Lady Gaga, and no, just old standards from your time."

"Well you better not butcher 'em too bad," he said, his way of telling her he liked the idea.

Tabby smiled and quietly began to rifle through the box, moving aside old snapshots of Finn, Rachel and their family over the years, enjoying the smell of old books and papers. As she sorted through the box she stopped short at the sight of a yellowed envelope. She picked it up and saw that it was addressed to Finn Hudson from Rachel Berry and she immediately knew what it was, it was one of her Grandmother's letters to Finn during the war, and it was one of many stacked in the box.

"Oh my god Grampy, these are the letters aren't they?"

"Well I'll be…" he said with the closest thing to a smile she's seen on his face since Rachel died.

"Do you mind?" She said, hesitantly opening the envelope.

"Not at all," he said before continuing his task.

She opened the envelope and took out the letter, unfolding it gently and beginning to read her grandmother's girly, elegant script.

_My dearest Finn,_

_I hope that you are doing well and this letter along with the cookies I sent will warm your heart this cold, cold winter…_

**Yay, next chapter is very Finchel centered as I promised, but the other characters will be mentioned too. It will also be told entirely in letters, which is sort of new for me. Anyway, keep reading and if you haven't already, check out my infinitely more popular fic The Mermaid Problem.**


	8. Faithfully, Rachel Hudson

**I was a little worried about this chapter, but I think it's my favorite so far. I really hope you like it too.**

Tabby sat in the cool, dimly lit basement, shuffling through the stacks and stacks of letters, she knew she wouldn't be able to read them all, there were almost 3,000 of them between the two of them, letters written daily for 4 long years. It was the only contact they had as a married couple for as long as the war went on. Her grandmother was always a stickler for keeping things in order so it wasn't hard to build a little greatest hits collection in order by date. She took the stack of letters under her arm and continued upstairs, anxious to read them.

* * *

><p>March 4th 1941<p>

Dearest Finn,

I miss you already, I miss you so much that I sometimes feel my heart will burst. And I worry for you every day, but I know deep inside that you will return to me, and I will wait for you, because my love for you runs deep within my very soul. I hope that you are doing well, I hope that you are staying warm and making friends and playing your music and singing every day. Sometimes I feel as if I can hear you, even though you are so far away, I can hear your voice so clearly in my head and it calms me, I can sleep to the sound of your voice, and I hear it in my dreams. I sing for you sometimes, can you hear me too? I like to think that you can. Every time I sing on stage it's for you. I think that's why I'm so popular these days, Mr. Karofsky gave me three full sets this week and he didn't go back on his word. Maybe I'll be able to afford a nicer radio soon, the sound quality on my current one is deplorable, if I want to hear about the events overseas then I have to stand near the window and hold it up in just a certain way and even then I can only hear every other word.

Papa doesn't like listening to the news, it reminds him of sad things. I'm afraid for him Finn, I try so hard to keep his spirits up but it's to no avail. Yesterday I made him apricot pie, his favorite, but the next day it remained untouched. Perhaps it reminds him of Leroy, it was his favorite pie too. I hope you liked the gingersnaps I sent you, sometimes when I'm feeling very alone I like to bake as if there is someone here to bake for, as if you were here, and as if Leroy were still here and as if Hiram didn't leave with him the day he died, because sometimes it's how I feel, like I lost both fathers that day. I know that if you ever left this world I'd leave right alongside you, if not in body then in spirit. I love you Finn Hudson, I love you very much and I wish you were here with me, safe and warm.

Until tomorrow,

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>March 13, 1941<p>

My sweet girl,

I love you, but you're so dramatic. I'm fine here, but even if anything ever happened to me I would want you to keep on living, because this world would just be no good without you. I miss you so much it hurts, but I can hear your voice all of the time too, sometimes for no reason, in the middle of the day, I can hear you, so never stop singing for me, because it keeps me going, whether you know it or not. I'm so sorry about your dad, but I know that you're taking care of him and that he will be okay. I know this must be hard to believe, but I like it here. The cold is tough to take, and the Germans rain fire down on us practically every night, and being so far away from you is hell, but the guys make it easier. Artie is probably the smartest guy you're ever going to meet, why he decided to be a fighter pilot instead of a doctor or a tank driver or something is beyond me. And Sam Evans is about as funny as they come, you should hear his Bing Crosby impression, it's gold. Matt Rutherford was a leatherhead in high school like me and Puck, he's a real quiet sort of guy, you can't get him to say a thing unless it's about football, which is alright by me because I could talk about it all day, and he dances real good too, but not like Mike Chang. Mike is about the best I've ever seen, it's like if Fred Astaire were a Chinaman. A lot of the other guys won't talk to him, because they think he's a Jap, but even if he were that seems kind of wrong to me, even if he were a Jap he would still be fighting for our country, which deserves respect in my book. He's married to this Japanese girl back in Los Angeles where he comes from, he's the only other married guy my age in the barracks so it seems wrong for us to not be friends.

I'm not having any trouble in the friends department, especially because of your cookies, the gingersnaps were the best I've ever had. I hope you don't mind me sharing them, everybody loves them. Mike's wife doesn't bake, one of those feminist types, but you can tell how much he loves her by the way he talks about her. It's the same way I talk about you.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>November 6, 1941<p>

Dear Finn,

I don't want you to panic Finn because it's really nothing at all, in fact it's so inconsequential that I don't know why I'm bringing it up, but I don't want to keep anything from you. There was an accident at the factory today. I cut my arm on a bit of machinery and had to get stitches. They say I can't come back to work until I'm healed, and of course they can't pay me if I can't work. I'm struggling Finn, even getting more full sets at the nightclub isn't enough these days. I know that what you're going through is so much worse and I feel terrible about complaining. But if I don't make a change then my father and I won't survive here. I've decided to take in a boarder, the extra room just sits there, not being used and the extra money will really help us, I'll post signs tomorrow. Anyway, I hope that everything is okay, that you are safe and happy in spite of it all, and I know I say it so much all ready, but I don't feel like I can possibly say it enough, I love you Finn Hudson, forever and always. And I hope you enjoyed the oatmeal cranberry cookies I sent, it's a new recipe.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>December 7th 1941<p>

Dear Rachel,

I feel like I can't breathe, I'm so angry Rachel, so so angry. I don't understand the world sometimes, how people can be so heartless. And sometimes I feel like I'm no better, because the first thing that came into my head when I heard about what happened was that I was relieved that I wasn't there. I don't understand how I'm allowed to be a soldier, I should have wanted to be there, to help fight them off, I should have been willing to die for them. I'm a good fighter when I'm told what to do, when there's a plan, I feel I'm a coward otherwise, only a coward would think something like that, only a coward would be relieved about not being there. I worry about Mike, about what will happen to him now, about his wife. They had nothing to do with any of this, but that doesn't matter, they're all so angry, we all are. I am. I just want to be with you right now, to hold you and cry in your arms. I hope you don't think me less of a man because of it. Real men don't cry and they don't tell their wives that they feel like crying, but I do. I feel like crying Rachel. And I know I'm not making any sense anymore. They're going to send us away, to fight them, to fight back. I'll think of you while I'm fighting, I'll think of your face and your voice and I'll survive it. I'll survive anything because of you. I might even survive me. I love you, so so much.

Forever yours,

Finn

* * *

><p>My Darling,<p>

I am positively livid with you right now Finn Hudson, how could you possibly think yourself a coward? The man I know and love is no coward. You are the bravest, kindest dearest man that I have ever known and a valiant soldier. I wish that this could get to you sooner, I wish I could have been there with you when this atrocity took place, to hold you close and tell you that I love you and believe in you so completely. But I know that you are well now, I know that you were able to pick yourself up and be strong because that is who you are. And just in case I didn't get this across in my previous statements, I could never think of you as less of a man.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>January 6, 1942<p>

My Sweet Girl,

I hope that you had a nice Christmas, and Hanukkah and everything. I'm sorry that it's taken so long to write, I just got back, things are hard, but I'm okay, I'm much better in fact. I hope that your father and Jesse are doing well. You're sure that this Jesse guy is okay? I know he's lived there for awhile and he seems nice enough from the way you describe him, but I'll admit that the idea with you living with another guy rubs me the wrong way a little. I understand that he needed a place to stay after starting at the club and you need the money and everything, just be careful. You're a real cute dish and a lot of fellas would kill for a chance with you. I miss you every day, every minute in fact.

P.S. I think coconut chocolate chunk may be my new favorite, you outdid yourself with those.

Forever yours,

Finn

* * *

><p>January 16, 1942<p>

Dearest Finn,

Everything is fine, Mr. Karofsky says that Jesse and I are his most popular act in years, I'm getting more and more shows every week, I may even be able to quit the factory soon, it would mean more time with my father and more time to audition. I'm glad that things are looking up for me, but I worry for you so much, ever since buying that new radio I can't stop listening to the news, Jesse says I'm torturing myself, but I can't help it, I'm so afraid that one day I'll hear some awful news about you or Noah or one of your friends. I cry myself to sleep sometimes thinking about it. I know you think I'm being dramatic, but I miss you. I hope you liked the honey almond cookies, I feel like I used too much honey and not enough almonds.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>January 27, 1942.<p>

My beautiful Rachel,

I feel like I'm falling apart out here, Rutherford is dead, and Artie will never walk again and he's seeing everything double, and Puck's plane was shot down and he hasn't woken up. If I lose him I don't know what I'm going to do. Your letters are the only thing that keeps me sane. I can't write much today, I can't think straight enough to write, just know that I love you babe.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>February 1, 1942<p>

Dearest Finn

Listen to me sweetheart, you be strong, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless things may seem. I'm sending you all my love and you pass it on to Artie and Noah and the others. I'm so very sorry about Matthew, I know that he meant a lot to you. And I know that Noah will be okay, he is strong like you and if he hasn't already woken up by the time you receive this, that he will, he is a fighter. Just stay strong for him, hold his hand and tell him that everything will be okay, but I know that you will. Your heart is so strong Finn, I knew it from the first moment I met you.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>February 29, 1942.<p>

Dear Rachel,

I miss you, but I'm sure you know that. Everybody loved the snickerdoodles. Things are better now, Puck is up and about as if nothing ever happened, in fact, I think he's stronger than ever, he's still a little sad about that French dame I told you about, I don't think I've ever seen him this twisted about over a girl before, it's strange to be honest, but it gives me hope that maybe he'll be able to settle down one day and stop busting my chops. They're probably going to send Artie home soon, And Nurse Pierce is going with him, I told you about her, the dizzy blonde. I'm sad that his legs don't work anymore, but at least things aren't all bad for him. Mike on the other hand hasn't been the same since the bombing. His wife is being sent away to one of those camps. He hasn't gotten a letter from her in days, I don't think she understands how he can fight for a country that would lock her up like some kind of animal. The truth is I sometimes think he would leave if he could, I'm not sure if I would even blame him. Anyway, I love you babe.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>March 14 1942<p>

My Darling Finn,

I hope that you are doing well, we are all fine here. Today my father hugged me, while I was washing the dishes he came up to me and hugged me, out of the blue. I nearly cried. He's looking better too, he's eating sweets again, I baked him some banana bread, when I came home from the factory, he and Jesse were both eating it. It's starting to feel like home again, the only thing missing is you. I often think about the life that we are going to share together one day, a real life, with lots and lots of babies. Do you ever think about that? I feel I think about it far too often. I think that you would make a great father one day.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>November 27, 1942<p>

Dear Rachel,

Mike cried in the Barracks last night, Tina wrote him a Dear John letter, she even signed it Tina Katayanagi, her maiden name. I didn't know what to say to him. I get scared sometimes Rachel. I want you to know that I believe in us, in you. But I just get scared. I don't know what I'll ever do If you left me like that, sometimes I wonder if it was even fair to marry you only to leave you the same day. I know sometimes you get sad, I can see the teardrops on the letters you send and it breaks my heart. Just be strong baby, and know that you're never alone.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>December 18, 1942<p>

To my loving husband,

I had a dream about you last night, I dreamed that you came into my room and ripped all of my clothes off and took me right there and I could feel your big, hard…

_Oh my god, tabby said out loud. Next letter._

* * *

><p>December 22, 1942<p>

I dream about you too about your tight little…

_This never happened, my grandparents never had letter sex, that was never a thing. She thought to herself, shuddering and setting that one aside too._

* * *

><p>April 17, 1943<p>

My Darling Finn,

Before I say anything else I want you to know that I love you endlessly, and that no matter what happens I believe in us, with every breath I take. You know how I told you that I didn't want to keep anything from you? That I never wanted there to be any secrets between us? Well I feel like I should tell you that something happened last night. It was after my set at the Warbler room, Jesse and I were walking home and I got to talking about you and how much I miss you, and of course I started to cry profusely. And he hugged me, and I'm sure it was meant to be innocent, I'm sure his only intention was to comfort me. I think I should just get this out, we kissed Finn. It was only a momentary slip, I ended it right away. But it happened, and I'm so so sorry that it happened. I'm just so alone here sometimes, and Jesse has been such a good friend to me, but I promise you I don't feel that way about him, that I could never, ever feel that way about anybody but you. I've asked Jesse to find a new place to live, I just feel like things are too strange now. I'm so sorry to tell you all this with everything that is happening but I couldn't lie to you. I don't want to ever lie to you. I love you so much Finn and I am endlessly sorry. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

_The ink is blurred in certain places, she was crying the entire time she wrote it. Tabby notices._

* * *

><p>May 14 1943,<p>

Dear Finn,

It's been weeks, why haven't you written me back? I need to hear from you. I know that you're angry, and if you're angry just tell me that you're angry, I just need to hear from you, I need to know that you're alright. I'm so afraid for you, I'm so afraid that you could be hurt or worse. If you're trying to punish me then this is just cruel Finn. Please write me back, even if it's just a sentence, even if it's just a word, write me back. I love you.

P.S. I included some coconut chocolate chunk, I know they're your favorite.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>May 22 1943,<p>

Dear Finn,

If you're intent is to make me give up on us know that it isn't going to work. I will never give up on us. I made a mistake, a stupid mistake and I refuse to let you torture me over it. You are being incredibly immature Finn Hudson, but I love you, I love you and I will love you as long as I live. Please write me back, just let me know that you're okay.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>May 29, 1943<p>

Dear Finn,

That does it Finn Hudson, if you won't put forth even a modicum of effort to communicate with me then I'll just stop writing, I don't need this.

Sincerely,

Rachel Berry.

* * *

><p>May 30, 1943<p>

Dear Finn,

I didn't mean that, I promised to write you every day and I will. No matter what, I love you and I know that you still love me, I hope you like the macaroons.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>June 6, 1943<p>

Dear Rachel,

A nurse kissed me in the Andover Bathroom two years ago. I never told you.

Sincerely,

Finn.

* * *

><p>June 12, 1943<p>

Dearest Finn,

I forgive you for not telling me. I am so glad that you are safe.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>June 17, 1943<p>

Dear Rachel,

I'm still so angry with you Rachel. I hate that you kissed Jesse, I hate that you told me, and I hate that I wasn't there to kick his ass, but I love you. I love you so much and I miss you and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't write you, I just didn't know what to say. I just feel so helpless being so far away from you and not being able to see you and kiss you and make love to you. I understand that you were lonely. I'm lonely too sometimes. I hope that you'll be okay, and I really hope that Jesse somehow gets his ass kicked anyway. Please don't ever stop writing me, I need you Rachel, I need to know that you still love me, because I could never, ever stop loving you.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>December 18, 1943<p>

My Dearest Finn,

If I have timed this accurately, this should reach you on Christmas, Merry Christmas my love. I hope you are well, we're all fine, Kurt is settling in well, and my father just loves him. He hasn't gotten along with someone in a long time. I was nervous at first about accepting a German into my home after everything that's happened, but I know that I can't let this war influence my judgment about people. I know that is what so many do to Mike. Not everybody is as kind though, it seems like Kurt's only other friend is Mr. Anderson from the Club, he won't admit it but I think they might be involved with each other, it's probably best that he's keeping it quiet, I wouldn't want anything to happen to dear Kurt. I hope that everyone is having a nice holiday, make sure Puck gets the scarf, I know that he gets sick when it's cold. I hope you like the sweater I sent you, I knew the second I saw it that I had to buy it for you, the reindeer is just darling isn't it? Make sure to wear it when it gets too cold, I love you very much darling,

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>December 25, 1943<p>

It won't be Christmas anymore by the time you get this, but Merry Christmas anyhow. Thank you for the sweater and the little gingerbread soldiers you sent, I hope you liked the Binoculars, I know it's not very romantic but the only store close by enough to walk to in the cold is the Army Surplus shop. You'll never guess what happened today, Mike got a letter in the mail, from Tina, and she knitted him a blanket. She spent months knitting it, it was the worst thing most of us had ever seen, but it was a whole blanket. She must really be sorry. He doesn't know if he wants to make up or not, I asked him if he still loves her, he said he did, that he couldn't stop. I told him that if he really loves her then he should try to forgive her, not for her but for him. He was up late writing, I think he's going to forgive her.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>April 14, 1944<p>

To my Darling Husband,

Father got a job, Kurt gave him a job at the tailors. He can't sew at all but he's going to be helping with the books and things, he was always so good at arithmetic. I can't wait for you to meet Kurt, I'd like to think that you would be very good friends. With father working again I feel things will get ever better, I have been auditioning more and more, they're looking for a new understudy for the role of Laurie in Oklahoma, as you know Kurt took my father and I to see it as a Christmas gift and I simply fell in love with it. I never thought myself an understudy, but I suppose I must start somewhere. I am very excited about this audition Finn, it could be the break I've been waiting for. As always, I send you my love and I pray for your safety every day.

P.S. Sorry if the peanut butter cookies are a bit crisp around the edges, our oven is on the fritz.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>April 21, 1944<p>

I'm sure by the time you get this you will have already gotten the job. And I want to tell you that I'm so proud of you Rachel, I know that I will have a famous wife very soon, and your peanut butter cookies were perfect, stop pretending to be modest. A busted oven is no match for Rachel Hudson. We got a letter from Artie today, he and Britt got hitched, and he's back in school studying film, who would've thought he wanted to make pictures? But I guess it takes smarts for that sort of thing. I think he'll be good at it. I've been thinking about what I want to do once I get out of here, I never used to think about it much, but I reckon you inspire me. I'm not a real good singer like you, or smart like you, but there are things that I do well, I'm good at sports so I was thinking I could be a coach, or one of those sports announcers on the radio or maybe since I'm good at flying I could keep doing that, the only thing is I hear pilots have to be away from home a lot and I don't think I want to spend any more time away from you, It's good that your dad got a job, I don't think I could be an accountant, I'm lousy at math except for measurements and things, but that stuff comes natural when you grow up building things and fixing things, not having a dad around I had to do all of the men's work, kind of like how you learned how to bake because you didn't have a mom around to do it. I talked to Lieutenant Scheuster, and before he joined up he was a teacher, Mike's family owned a dance studio, I guess that's how he got so good, and Sam ran a comic book stand, he says that one day there will be entire stores just for comic books, I don't know about that but I'm sure if anyone could get it started it would be him, I think Puck would be happy doing anything as long as there were dames in it for him. I told him that being a good flirt isn't a career. I hope whatever it is I end up doing that I'll make you proud of me, as proud of me as I am of you.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>April 29, 1944<p>

My Darling Husband,

Finn, I already am proud of you, so very proud of you, but it's good that you're thinking about the future. As of now I'm still awaiting what is sure to be my auspicious debut on the Broadway stage. They didn't pick me, I think they were afraid of me upstaging their star should they ever need me to replace her. It's the only explanation I can think of, I was brilliant Finn, as brilliant as I've ever been. I won't get discouraged, I will only keep going.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson

_There are teardrops on this letter too, Tabby notices._

* * *

><p>June 5, 1944<p>

My Sweet girl,

I'm getting ready for bed now. I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow. This could be it Rachel, tomorrow could be the day we finally take those Nazi bastards down once and for all. Puck won't talk to anyone, I've never seen him so focused, he was in bed by nine, I didn't think he was capable of going to sleep that early. I want you to promise me that you won't cry for me, I'm going to survive this, by the time you get this letter I will have already sent you another one telling you that we won, that I made it. It's what I keep trying to tell Sam, he's scared Rachel, I've never seen him this scared before. It worries me, Sam has always been such a positive guy. But maybe he can use that fear, that's what Lieutenant Schuester tells us. I'm thinking he was a good teacher. I miss you babe, every minute of every day.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>June 6, 1944<p>

Dearest Finn.

It's all over the News, people are dancing in the streets, my father picked me up and spun me around the room, it was the happiest I've seen him in years. I feel like this interminable war is finally coming to an end, like you are so close now that I can touch you, and somehow the fact that there is an end in sight just makes being away from you all the more insufferable. I am like a child awaiting Christmas if Christmas only came every ten years. I miss you so much Finn, please come home safely darling. I love you.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>June 6, 1944<p>

We won, we won the battle just like I promised, and I should be happy right now, I should be so happy. I should be celebrating, but as much as I want to I just can't. I lost one of the dearest friends I've ever known today. We lost many good men out there, but Sam was special. Over these three long years he had become like a brother to me, to all of us, and it just won't be the same here without him. He fought so bravely, even though he was scared he fought like he had no fear at all. I don't think I've ever been prouder. I'm going to miss him, I'm going to miss the way he made all of us laugh when we felt like crying. Before the battle he told me to give his guitar to his mother if he didn't make it, I told him to stop being stupid, that he would make it through, but something in his eyes told me that he knew he wasn't going home. Maybe that's why he fought so bravely, or valiantly, that's what you would say, valiantly. I like that word valiant, I think it suits him. I miss you, the moment I got back to the barracks and found your chocolate chunk coconut cookies waiting for me I almost cried. It's like you knew. I love you so much,

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>June 13, 1944<p>

My Darling Finn,

I know that you are still very sad about losing Sam, from what you've told me he was a lovely young man. I am so very sorry sweetheart. I am forever thankful that you are alive, that I can hold onto the hope that I will once again be able to hold you in my arms and so very sad that so many others will never be able to experience that joy. Taking the good with the bad is a tricky thing but it's something we must all learn how to do. I love you and miss you more than you could ever know

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>December 31, 1944.<p>

Happy New Year sweetheart, I hope you are well and that your father and Kurt are getting along fine. I'm off to the Andover to celebrate, I hope that you aren't staying cooped up in the house tonight like last year. You, Kurt and Blaine should go out and paint the town red. I don't want to hear that you stayed in, you deserve to live babe. I suppose I should have written this earlier so it actually would have gotten to you by New Years, but I know you did the right thing.

Cheers,

Finn.

* * *

><p>January 1, 1945<p>

My Dearest Finn,

You would be so ashamed of me, I got drunk last night, horribly drunk. I think at one time Blaine and I were singing in the streets and he is currently passed out on my floor. I hope I'm not still hung over by tomorrow, I audition for Carousel and I badly want the role. I would love to write more but I'm so very tired Finn, and the light is beginning to hurt my eyes, Happy New Year darling.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson

* * *

><p>March 21, 1945<p>

Dearest Rachel,

I hope that rehearsals are going well and that everybody is fine. They're sending us to the Phillipines, I figured it was only a matter of time. I should be back in Europe before long though. I will try to write as often as I can. When I write to you it's the closest thing to being able to talk to you. I can't believe that it's been four years since I've heard your voice. I haven't forgot it, I can still hear it so plainly in my head. Never stop singing for me.

Forever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>August 6, 1945<p>

My dear husband,

I keep telling myself that this needed to happen, that it was the only way, but I just don't know Finn. So many people dead, so many innocent children, I know that this war has taken many innocent lives, many being the lives of my own people, but something about so many dying all at once, it chills me to my very core. I hope that you can come home soon darling, I hope that if any good can come from what has happened in Japan it's that we win this war and that you come home safely to me darling. I hope that Mike is well, I know that many of his in laws were affected by this. I know that you will console him in his time of need.

Faithfully,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>August 6, 1945<p>

Dear Rachel,

You know how you told me about taking the bad with the good? Well that is how I feel now. They think the Japanese will surrender now, that they have no choice in the matter. I guess I just wish it didn't have to happen this way. We killed kids Rachel, I know I didn't do it directly but I can't help but feel all mixed up over it, especially because of Mike. He didn't go out with the guys to celebrate, he stayed at the barracks, I guess he stayed behind to write to Tina, she's probably hurting real bad over this. I hope she doesn't blame Mike. He's a good man and he loves her, and I know she loves him too, she sent him a sweater she knitted him for his birthday, it was actually pretty swell. I guess she's had a lot of time to practice being locked up, how's that for taking the good with the bad? I miss you babe, and I pray that I'll be home soon.

Forever and ever yours,

Finn.

* * *

><p>August 28, 1945<p>

My darling husband, I so wish you could have been there, my first night playing the lead role in Carousel, It was completely out of the blue, I was in the dressing room putting on my makeup and the next thing I knew the director charged in to tell me that Jan was sick and he was pulling me from the chorus to play the lead, the lead Finn! It will only be until Jan returns which should be no more than a couple of days, but when I was up on that stage, performing my heart out I finally felt like a star, I was almost ashamed to be so happy, knowing that you weren't there watching but I know that I will have many more shows to come over the years and that you will be in the front row for all of them, with flowers, wearing that smile that I love so much. You should know that I gave the best performance of my life, because although I was Julie singing for Billy, I was at the same time Rachel singing for her Finn. How I wish I could see you my love, come home soon.

Forever yours,

Rachel Hudson.

* * *

><p>September 2, 1945<p>

My sweet girl,

By the time you receive this letter I could very well be reading it along with you. They surrendered Rachel, they made it official today. Were coming home, all of us, after all these years we can finally be together as husband and wife. Everything we've written about in letters, everything we've dreamt about will finally be real. I almost can't stand it, my hands are shaking so hard as I write this and I know I'm getting tears all over the paper, but I can't help it. I guess part of me thought this day would never come, or I wouldn't live to see it. But it's here, it's real and nobody can take that away from us. I'm coming home baby, I'm coming home.

Faithfully,

Finn.

**I hope nobody took issue with me making Tina Japanese in this story, I liken it to making Kurt German, Quinn French and Brittany English, but I know it's not exactly the same thing as that. I was going to make both Mike and Tina Japanese at first but I changed it because I wanted her to have the same name. Stay tuned for more, only two chapters and an epilogue after this!**


	9. Coming Home

**Sorry for the short chapter folks, but at least it's a quick update.**

He had been there before, years and years ago. It was where he met her, his wife, his love, the one person who he could always count on no matter what, but she left him. She was so sick for so long and one day she just went, in the night, the morning he woke up next to her cold body was the day his life ended, but somehow in the last few days he had found a way to be sort of happy again, to remember that there were things about his life that were still good, that maybe there were reasons to keep on going, if only for a little while. He was old, and tired and he knew that his time would come before long, but he wasn't patiently awaiting it anymore, the only thing he waited patiently for were cookies courtesy of his granddaughter and cards with the man who had been his best friend for as long as he could remember and weekends in New York with his son. Maybe death could wait awhile. He certainly didn't feel like dying, he felt great, better than he had since he was 21 years old, as he entered the club he stopped short and looked into the reflective glass lining the walls, he _was_ 21. It was that night all over again, and suddenly he understood, he was dreaming. He must have been dreaming, the club was completely empty, there was no music, no voices, no people, except for one. She sat at the bar, her back turned to him and he cleared his throat and approached her quietly. She turned to face him and a smile reached her beautiful lips at the sight of him.

"Hello sweetheart," she said quietly.

"Rachel," he said, his eyes prickling with tears. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Come, sit next to me," she said, patting the seat next to her, and he obeyed, sitting and facing her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, if that were even possible.

"I've missed you," she said softly, touching his cheek with her satin gloved hand.

"I've missed you so much too, every day Rachel," and he grabs the hand that touches his cheek and squeezes.

"Are you very angry with me darling?"

"What? No," Finn said in disbelief, shaking his head. "No, why would I be angry with you?"

"I didn't want to leave sweetheart, I wanted to stay with you always, but it was my time, I couldn't fight it no matter how much I wanted to," She started crying too, and he took her into his arms and held her, just held her the way he hadn't been able to do for years.

"Shh, It's okay, it's okay baby," he said, and kissed the top of her head as he held her. "I'm okay, I promise."

"I know you are, I've been watching over you," she said, sitting up and wiping her tears away. "I'm so proud of you my love, I've always been proud of you."

"I know," he said and realized he was crying too. "I love you, I love you so much baby. Every day it gets stronger even when I don't think it's possible."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him and he held her close and kissed her back, deeply and tenderly, tasting her mouth and feeling her hands on his face and he never stopped loving her, not for a second and he never, ever could. She broke the kiss and when his eyes opened again, young Rachel was gone. She was small now, even smaller than she was at twenty one and her skin was lined with deep wrinkles and her hair was almost completely white and gathered into a thick braid that sat on her shoulder, and the hand that he held in his was no longer sheathed in the satin glove, it was wrinkled and spotted and felt a bit like paper, and she was wearing that sweater she always wore, even when it was hot out, the pink cable knit wrap cardigan, and she was still so beautiful, and her eyes, framed with deep smile lines still somehow sparkled. He looked into the mirror behind the bar, his hair had gone white again too, and his skin was wrinkled and his tall frame was hunched over, and he turned up one corner of his mouth in a smile.

"This was how it was always supposed to be, you and I growing old together," he said, squeezing her hand.

"It's time for you to come home now sweetheart," she said softly.

"What do you mean?" he replied, turning toward her again.

She squeezed his hand and smiled warmly at him, "I'm taking you home."

* * *

><p>The beat up van pulled up to the front of Tabby's house and she was a little surprised that he came on time, seeing as he bitched for five straight minutes about having to get up early to help prep the VFW, and she was even more surprised when she piled into the passenger seat.<p>

"Oh my god," she said, reaching out to touch his hair, before jerking her hand back, realizing what she was doing.

"Yeah," Stuckey said sheepishly as he ran his hand through his newly short locks. "It was time for a change."

"It looks really good Stuckey, like really good." She said.

"You really mean that?"

"Why would I say something nice to you if I didn't have to?"

"Good point," he said, shrugging. "Ready to roll?"

"Yeah, but do you mind swinging by the home first? My mom wanted me to bring Grampy his medals to wear to the reunion."

"Yeah, sure," He said as they peeled off.

There was an ambulance outside the home, but that was the case more often than not, so she didn't think anything of it. She entered the home and approached the front desk to find the nurse on the phone with someone and she heard something about _call the Hudsons._ She knitted her brow, wondering what that was all about when the woman hung up the phone.

"Hi, I'm here to see Finnegan Hudson," Tabby said and her breath siezed at the look on the nurses face.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry," the nurse said carefully. "Mr. Hudson died in his sleep last night."

She chuckled a little, not quite believing it. "No, I just saw him last week he was fine, he was threatening an orderly," her eyes prickled with tears and a lump formed in her throat.

"We found him a few minutes ago, we were just about to call your family," The nurse said as she stood up and reached out to place her hand on Tabby's shoulder, but Tabby ducked away, running for Finn's room. As she looked inside the tears fell over, the room was empty. She walked up to his desk, touching the framed pictures on it.

"Hey Tabs you forgot your cookies," she turned to face Stuckey standing in the doorway.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he said, noticing the tears. "What happened, where's…" and he trailed off as it dawned on him. "Oh god,Tabby, I'm sorry."

She put down the framed picture and walked up to him in two long strides, throwing her arms around him and crying bitterly into his jacket.

"Shh, it's okay Tabby," he said rubbing her back. "It's going to be okay."

She looked up at him and he thumbed the hot tears from her face.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he said.

"No," and before she knew it her lips were on his, or his lips were on hers, she wasn't sure who kissed who first, but she supposed it didn't matter. It was just one kiss, soft and gentle and lingering and he cupped her face with his calloused hands and she rested her forehead against his as their lips parted. "I want to wait for my parents."

"Do you want me to wait with you?"

She nodded and he hugged her tighter letting her rest her face in the crook of his neck and he rocked her back and forth as she cried.

"Thank you Steven," she said quietly.

**I know, I know, short chapter and depressing to boot, but the next and final chapter before the epilogue will be longer and much happier.**


	10. Reunion

They pulled up to the VFW at noon, all dressed up in their forties garb, and she felt guilty for noticing how sexy he looked in the uniform he had rented. It was four hours after losing her grandfather. Her parents had tried talking her out of going, so did Stuckey, but she wouldn't have any of it. Somehow she felt she owed it to him. She could pull herself together for an hour and cry about it later.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Stuckey said as he parked his van.

She nodded. "Yeah, I really do. I know you don't understand—

"No, I understand," he said, reaching out and touching her shoulder. She gave him a weak smile, trying to keep the tear from rolling down her cheek and failing.

"You look so pretty Tabby," he said rubbing away the stray tear, and she smiled a little more.

"Thanks, my grandmother got married in this dress," she said quietly, smoothing out the front of the flowered skirt, "It's too short though."

"Well luckily you have great legs."

She smiled weakly at the compliment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Well I know I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I guess I can't help it."

"Ask me, it's okay," he assured her.

She looked into his green eyes and breathed deeply, trying to get up the strength to say it. "Stuckey, do you want to be with me. Like, really be with me?"

"Only since we were seven," he said, shrugging.

At that she leaned across the car and kissed him a bit more firmly than she had at the home, "It's funny," she said as their lips parted. "I think I want to be with you too,"

"You're not saying that because you're sad are you?"

She shook her head. "No, I guess these last few days have just sort of made me realize something."

"That I'm devastatingly handsome and wicked cool."

"No," she said, chuckling a bit in spite of herself. "That life is too short to keep pretending to hate you when the truth is… I've been in love with you for almost ten years."

He exhaled sharply and looked away from her. "Wow, that's the first time a girl's ever said that to me, you know when I wasn't in the middle of having… you know what, that's not important. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you too, like crazy."

"That's actually really nice to hear," She said, crying again, she didn't realize that it was possible to cry both happy tears and sad tears at the same time, but there they were. "I still think you're an asshole though," she joked.

"Just as long as I'm your asshole," he said, and they kissed again and she couldn't help but think how nice it was, and as she broke the kiss she laughed and wiped the bit of red lipstick she'd left behind on his mouth. She knew that Grampy would be happy for them, he did cut his hair after all.

* * *

><p>He held her hand as they entered, the others had already arrived, usually Tabby was the first one to show up at these things, but she had had a bit of a tough morning.<p>

"Tabitha, honey," Mrs. Hendricks said walking up to her and wrapping her in a hug. "I heard about what happened, are you okay?"

"Um, no not really," Tabby said, smiling weakly. "But I will be."

"Are you sure you didn't want to sit this one out?" Mrs. Hendricks continued.

"It's okay, I want to be here."

"Well you two look great, love the costumes," she said. "Oh, and I have to say that set is gorgeous, I don't know how you pulled it off in so little time."

"Set?" Tabby said, perplexed, and at that she marched into the multi-purpose room, Stuckey in tow. When she entered the room her jaw dropped at the sight of it. The stage was decked with a WWII themed set, with plywood tanks and jets and propaganda posters strewn about.

"Oh my god, who did this?" Tabby said. "I was just going to staple up a couple of patriotic balloons."

"That would be one of our members, Finnegan Hudson." Said the VFW manager.

"But how?" Tabby said. "I mean, I know he was a set-builder way back when but he was 91 years old, how did he do all this?"

"He had a lot of help from our volunteers, in fact he mostly just pointed his cane and yelled at everyone a lot," The manager continued.

"Wow Tabby, he must've really loved you," Stuckey said.

"Yeah," Tabby said, breaking into a big grin. "I guess he did."

* * *

><p>It was a nice turnout, she scanned the audience as she took the stage, she didn't recognize anyone except for Puck who winked at her from the front row, but she wondered silently if one of the four men in wheelchairs was Artie Abrams or if Mike Chang or Santana Lopez would show up. Probably not, Mike Chang was from Los Angeles, and although he may not have lived there anymore, if he were still alive at all, he probably wouldn't have made the trip unless he were in Ohio. And Santana Lopez was a semi-celebrity, she probably wouldn't be caught dead at The Lima VFW. Still, it felt like she was doing a good thing, like they all were, and that was enough.<p>

"This performance is dedicated to my Grandfather Finnegan Hudson," Tabby said, smiling a little at the scattered applause at the mention of his name, some of them did know him. "Unfortunately he passed away last night," Her voice broke as she continued her speech, but she pressed on. "But even though he won't be here to see this performance, I know that somewhere, wherever he is, he can hear this. It was the song that his wife sang onstage the first night they met, the month before he shipped out to England. So Grampy, Listen close, we both know you never had that problem."

Stuckey began to play the piano over to the side of her as she cleared her throat and began to sig, her voice quavering a little at first but becoming clearer with every word.

_Maybe I'm right and maybe I'm wrong and maybe I'm weak and maybe I'm strong_  
><em>But nevertheless I'm in love with you<em>  
><em>Maybe I'll win and maybe I'll lose and maybe I'm in for cryin' the blues<em>  
><em>But nevertheless I'm in love with you<em>

_Somehow I knew at a glance the terrible chances I'm taking_  
><em>Fine at the start then left with a heart that is breaking<em>  
><em>Maybe I'll live a life of regret<em>  
><em>And maybe I'll give much more than I get<em>  
><em>Nevertheless I'm in love with you<em>

_(Maybe I'm right and maybe I'm wrong maybe I'm weak maybe I'm strong)_  
><em>But nevertheless I'm in love with you<em>  
><em>(Maybe I'll win maybe I'll lose maybe I'm in for cryin' the blues)<em>  
><em>But nevertheless I'm in love with you<em>

_Somehow I knew at a glance the terrible chances I'm taking_  
><em>Fine at the start then left with a heart that is breaking<em>  
><em>Maybe I'll live a life of regret and maybe I'll give much more than I get<em>  
><em>But nevertheless I'm in love with you.<em>

The concert had went off without a hitch and Tabby had never felt more proud of her glee club, even Kennedy pulled through with a pretty rousing tap dance set to an obligatory Andrews Sisters standard.

"Hey Tabby," Kennedy said, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Oh, hey," Tabby said coldly, turning to face her.

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry, about your grandpa."

"Oh," Tabby said, taken by surprise. "Thank you, but you know he lived a really long life so…"

"That doesn't really make it better though, does it?" Kennedy said. "My grandma was 80 years old when she died last year, but I think it hurt just as much. I mean, I guess I hoped on some level that she'd be at my graduation and wedding and all that other lame stuff, but you know…" she trailed off at that point, a sad look on her face. Tabby couldn't believe it, was Kennedy actually being somewhat human?

"Anyway, I gotta jet, this old people smell is killer, see you in class firecrotch," and at that Kennedy clapped her on the shoulder and pranced out of there, and Tabby shook her head and smiled.

"Hey," Stuckey said, walking up to her. "You are never going to guess who's here."

"Who?"

"Tabby Hudson, meet Artie Abrams," Stuckey said as a tiny bespectacled man rolled up to her in a wheelchair.

"Oh my god, it is so great to meet you," Tabby said reaching out to shake his hand.

"Are you my wife?" He said confusedly shaking her hand.

"Umm, no, I'm Tabby," you knew my Grandfather.

"Where's my wife?" He said.

"I think she died in the 90's," Stuckey said carefully, to which Tabby gently elbowed him.

"You're just lovely," he said, still shaking Tabby's hand. "That was a beautiful song you sang up there."

"Thank you very much Mr. Abrams," Tabby beamed.

"Steven, how the hell are ya?" Puck said, walking up to greet his great nephew.

"How's it going uncle Puck?" Stuckey said, greeting the old man with a hug.

"It's going, and how are you holding up honey?" Puck continued, turning his attention to Tabby.

"I'll be okay," she said. "What about you though?"

His eyes were sad, deeply sad, but he managed to turn up the corners of his mouth anyway. "I'm pissed to tell you the truth, the man owed me a rematch."

"I'm going to miss him too," Tabby said squeezing his shoulder a little, to which he gave her a warm smile.

"Oh hey, we found your old war buddy Artie," Stuckey said.

"I know, we talked before the show, but he's probably forgotten about it by now," Puck said.

"Puckerman, come with me I want to get some punch," Artie said turning toward the Punch bowl.

"I'll see you kids in a bit," Puck said, winking as he followed behind Artie.

"That is so cool," Stuckey said.

"I know." Tabby agreed. "I wonder if anyone else from their stories are here."

"Well I saw this old Asian lady here, maybe she came with Mike Chang."

"Yeah but I didn't see any Asian guys in the audience," Tabby said.

"Let's ask anyway," he said, shrugging, and he followed him to the elderly Asian woman sitting toward the back.

"Hi," Stuckey said as they sat next to her. "Do you by any chance know Mike Chang."

"Why, do you think I would automatically know someone named Chang because I'm Asian," the woman said curtly.

"No, not at all," Tabby said.

"I kind of did," Stuckey said shrugging, causing Tabby to shoot him a look.

"He was my husband," she admitted. "He died 10 years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Tabby said.

"So does that mean you're Tina Chang?" Stuckey said.

"Do I know you young man?" Tina said.

"Well we've heard some stories, about your husband," Tabby said.

"Well I'm sure they're not all true," Tina said. "Anyway, wives were invited so I decided to come to give my two cents to the men who bombed the native country of my ancestors… but I stayed for the singing."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Tabby said.

"I was a singer in my day, I have to say this whole thing really brought me back."

"Mrs. Chang, would you like to meet some friends of ours?" Tabby said.

"Absolutely, I have a lot more scolding to do," she said, pulling herself up from her seat with some obviously not entirely welcome help from Stuckey. The three of them approached the punch bowl where Puck and Artie were still having what was likely a very one-sided conversation.

"Uncle Puck, Artie, this is Tina Chang." Stuckey said.

"Are you my wife?" Artie said confusedly.

"No, I was married to Michael Chang." Tina said.

"I'm Michael Chang," he said extending his hand for her to shake.

"No you're Artie Abrams," Puck said.

"I'm Artie Abrams." Artie corrected. "And I must say Tina you are quite radiant, if I weren't married I'd court you in a heartbeat."

At that Tina giggled a bit, her angry façade fading, "You're very sweet Mr. Abrams."

"I dated an Asian girl back before I was married, well, she lived next door to me, I never talked to her but she was lovely."

Tabby and Stuckey couldn't help but laugh, there really was nothing more precious than watching 90 year olds flirt.

"So," Stuckey said over to Tabby. "Are you holding up alright?"

"Yeah, I wish he were here though," Tabby said.

"He is Tabby," Stuckey said, putting his arm around her. "He is."

* * *

><p><strong>One Week Later<strong>

It was a lovely funeral, tasteful and emotional. Finn Hudson was deeply loved, that was never more apparent to Noah Puckerman than it was that day, and he could understand, because he loved him too. He entered his room at Emerald Gardens, heading straight for his desk, and he picked up a small framed photo, it was him and Finn posing in front of Puck's jet back in the war. It was so long ago, so so long ago.

"Well you old bastard, looks like I beat you again," He said, half smiling and placing the picture back on the desk.

"Noah Puckerman?"

He turned his head at the voice and stopped short at the sight of her, needing to squint a little. It couldn't be, could it?

"Quinn?" He said excitedly, "I don't believe it, you don't look a day over 60."

"Why thank you, Dr. Swanson does excellent work," she said, fluffing her perfectly curled platinum hair. "But I'm not Quinn Fabray."

"Well you're a spitting image."

"Can we sit?" She said, gesturing toward his chair.

He obliged and she sat across for him.

"I'm not sure how to say this exactly but just to come right out and say it," she said, more confidently than her word choice would suggest. "Mr. Puckerman my name is Elizabeth Archer, and… I'm your daughter."

He knitted his brow in confusion, he must have misheard her. "My…"

"Daughter, yes," she said matter of factly. "You see my mother is Quinn Fabray, hence the resemblance."

"Is… which means she's…"

"Alive, yes," she said, once again finishing his sentence. "But I'm afraid it may not be for much longer, my mother has been ill for quite some time and you see, her dying wish was for me to track you down."

"Wait a minute, you're not joking are you?"

"Why ever would I joke about that Mr. Puckerman," she said humorlessly. "I'm actually quite angry with her, springing this on me now. But it is what it is, she would like very much to see you before she goes."

Puck stood up from his chair and turned his back toward her, still trying to process everything that had just happened.

"You mean I've had a daughter all this time?"

"Don't worry, I'm aware that you had no knowledge of my existence, there are no hostile feelings toward you Mr. Puckerman," Elizabeth said.

"I've thought about your mother every day for the past 70 years," he said sadly, his back still turned toward her.

"Well then it's settled, you're coming with me," She said with an almost professional tone. "Jensen!"

"Yes Mrs. Archer," A formally dressed older gentleman entering the room said.

"Help Mr. Puckerman pack his things. And be quick about it," she said, actually snapping her fingers.

"Yes Mrs. Archer," Jensen said.

"Well I can pack my own overnight bag, I'm not dead girlie," Puck said.

"Who said anything about overnight?" she said. "I've already discussed it with my husband, you'll be taking one of the extra rooms in our estate. Unless you've become accustomed to the stunning accommodations you've been afforded," she said sarcastically, looking the tiny room up and down with a snooty look on her face. She really was Quinn's daughter.

"I don't understand, are you asking me to live with you?"

"Well I admit it would be a huge imposition, but you are my father which means there is very great deal of lost time to make up for, I'm sure with my team of experts I can manage to keep you around a little while longer."

"Well hell, what are we waiting for?" he said, walking up to her and offering his arm which she gladly took.

"I must say Mr. Puckerman," She said. "I do see a bit of myself in you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I believe I have your eyes, minus the cataracts of course. I certainly didn't get them from my mother."

"That's a shame, she had beautiful eyes."

"Yes," She said, her cold look fading as she smiled at him. "I know."

"So can I call you Liz? I've always liked that name."

"Certainly not, if it's too many syllables for you to manage then I prefer you call me Beth."

**The end**

**Stay tuned for the epilogue folks!**


	11. Epilogue

**6 years later**

Tabby stood on the balcony, absentmindedly stroking the ancient Siamese cat that she held in her arms and enjoying the view from her new old apartment, it wasn't much of one, the most breathtaking sight from that balcony was a particularly ornate street lamp, but this was her home now and she couldn't help but love everything about it. There was so much history in the apartment, it was where her great grandfathers raised a young Rachel Berry, where her grandparents raised her uncle Chris, aunt Betty, and her mother Carole, where Old Man Hummel continued to come over for tea for years even after getting his own apartment on the lower floor with Blaine Anderson. Her Grampy's final request was that it stay in the family, and she was happy to help grant it.

"Did you steal old man Hummel's cat again?" Stuckey said, coming up behind Tabby and putting his hands on her shoulders. It startled her a bit, she hadn't even noticed the background noise of him playing the old harmonica Finn left her in his will had ceased.

"It's not my fault he likes to wander up here all the time," Tabby said.

"Even still I'd take him back, the guy's 95 years old, I'm sure it won't take much to give him a heart attack."

"He probably doesn't even notice he's gone," Tabby said, shrugging.

"Guess what? Uncle Puck sent me an email." Stuckey said.

"You mean he's actually capable of sending an email?"

"You'd be surprised, he's pretty sharp to be knocking on the old century mark."

"What did he say?"

"Beth is taking him to New York next week."

"That's so great, I can't wait to see him," Tabby said excitedly. "What's the occasion?"

"Theatre tickets," Stuckey said.

Tabby chuckled a little, "Must be great to be rich, maybe then we wouldn't have to share this place with a couple of freaks we met on craigslist"

"They may be freaks but you have to admit that Moonflower makes a mean pot brownie, you can't even taste the pot which is amazing because there is a buttload of pot in those things."

"Okay, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"Pretend all you want," Stuckey said, shrugging. "And give Mr. Hummel his cat back and get dressed, I'm taking you out."

"Out where?"

"You'll see."

* * *

><p>Tabby and Stuckey walked hand and hand down the busy sidewalk, she still had no idea where he was taking her and asking him proved pointless. But once they finally reached one of the few remaining bookstores in New York it became apparent and she was once again reminded of why she adored her crazy boyfriend so much. There it was, Santana Lopez's face on several huge posters announcing a book signing that she was somehow just hearing about.<p>

"How is it that I didn't know about this?" Tabby said staring in awe at the poster. Santana's latest book _My Fearless Life_ had reached the stands a week ago and Tabby had torn through it in less than a day.

"It was a real last minute thing," Stuckey said. "The only reason I found out about it was because I overheard a very well-timed conversation between two hipsters at Dean and Deluca this morning.

"You should have told me, I would have brought the book along."

"Do you not get the point of surprises? Besides I got that covered," At that he reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and pulled the book out for her.

"Well what are we waiting for? Come on," She said giddily, taking her boyfriend's arm as she entered the bookstore.

There she was, the woman Tabby had been dying to meet long before she ever heard Puck's story. They were next in Line and Tabby could plainly see her, although 98 years old she still had the confidence behind her eyes to suggest that she could steal every boyfriend in the room if she wanted to, lesbian and all, and everything from her short cropped silver hair to the fit of her outfit suggested that time was of no consequence to her.

"Next," she said in an unexpectedly commanding voice, and at that Tabby and Stuckey met her by the signing table.

"Who should I make this out to?" Santana said coolly in her cigarettes and whiskey voice.

"To Tabby Hudson, granddaughter of Finnegan Hudson," Tabby Said.

"And Steven Stuckey, Great nephew of Noah Puckerman," Stuckey Chimed in.

They didn't know whether she would remember those names or not but at the mention of them she looked up and squinted a bit, clearly thrown for a loop… she remembered.

"Ms. Lopez," Tabby said. "If you can get a moment after the signing, we'd love to talk."

"Honey, I'm 98 years old, what can I possibly have to do that's so important?" Santana said, signing the book. "And if you are who you say you are, boy do I have some stories for you."

**That's all folks! Overall, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. It almost makes me want to write another historical AU Fic, maybe this time set in the 50's. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading, you guys are the best!**


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